The New Arrival
by lilidelafield
Summary: A new surgeon arrives at the 4077th, someone that Hawkeye knows very well indeed. A series of short, one off stories about our favourite M*A*S*H characters and their new colleague. . . enjoy! (Contains no slash, no bad language)
1. Chapter 1

A NEW ARRIVAL AT CAMP

"Attention all personnel! Incoming casualties! Repeat incoming casualties! All personnel report to Pre-op immediately!"

With a groan BJ rolled out of bed and grabbed at his dressing gown.

"Hey! Up and at 'em! We gotta go Hawk. C'mon!"

Cursing under his breath, Hawkeye too rolled out of bed and fumbled for his trousers. BJ threw Hawkeye's bathrobe at him.

"No time for that Hawk."

They stumbled out into the night where they were joined by the rest of the camp, most of them clad in nightwear of various styles and colours, covered with dressing gowns of differing levels of modesty. Hawkeye grinned cheekily as major Houlihan's door opened and she stumbled out of her tent, something green painted over her face and frantically pulling rollers out of her hair. She put up a hand of warning.

"Don't you dare to say a word Pierce!"

"I was just going to say how lovely you look, Margaret!"

She rolled her eyes and hurried on.

The casualties rolled in thick and fast, and the hospital staff had their hands full trying to keep up. With Major Winchester in charge of triage, and Houlihan keeping the nurses on their feet, the turn over was quick and thorough, but despite the hard work, even once Winchester had left Major Houlihan in charge of pre-op, the incoming rate of casualties rose steadily. The surgeons found themselves working as if on a conveyor. Finish one operation, turn around for fresh gloves and find the next patient already waiting on the table.

Corporal Klinger came in clutching an X-Ray.

"Major, X-Ray for private Tuppin."

Major Winchester glanced at the picture, grunted and nodded.

"Very well Klinger. How many more have we got outside?"

"Forty-seven sir, thirteen urgent cases and more choppers arriving as we speak!" he replied, hurrying out. Winchester protested archly.

"Colonel, are we the only MASH unit in Korea? What about getting help from some of the others?"

The Colonel nodded.

"I agree. Radar!"

Radar's voice called from the doorway.

"I'm way ahead o' ya sir. I've just had the 8063rd on the line, and the 8055 before that, both screaming for help from us! Everyone's snowed under with casualties! They're all as busy as we are. I called ICORPS, and they said they've just had five new surgeons drafted in from home. They said that we're allowed another surgeon since Captain Jones was never replaced after he left. So they've sent us a Captain Lloyd. He's due to arrive within the hour."

Hawkeye frowned behind his mask.

"Captain Lloyd? Did they give you any more details about this new surgeon, Radar?"

Radar shook his head.

"Sorry sir."

He hurried out. Hawkeye fell silent, even his whistling had stopped and he seemed a little preoccupied. Colonel Potter looked up from his patient.

"What is it, son? You know this Captain Lloyd?"

Hawkeye shrugged.

"I know a doctor Lloyd...but there must be many of them. No, it's a coincidence, that's all."

BJ raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you didn't believe in coincidences, Hawk. Is this friend of yours a good surgeon?"

"Easily as good as I am, Beej. Certified in chest and general surgery, and a specialist in neuro-surgery."

"Sounds like someone we could use."

Hawkeye nodded but said no more.

Rain was starting to fall in sheets as a small two-man chopper set down on the lower helipad and disgorged a figure in a smart brown dress uniform, including brown jacket and skirt, heavy shoes and carrying a large duffel-bag. The figure saluted smartly to the pilot, who immediately took off again, flying low over the hospital roofs in order to give as much room as possible to the incoming casualty choppers. She slipped a little on the mud and was saved from landing on her rear by a swarthy man in a frilly pink dress and ladies fur-lined boots covered by an army all-weather poncho. The man grinned at the newcomer's startled expression.

"Hello ma'am. Welcome to the soggy 4077th. Corporal Klinger. Want a ride on the litter jeep?"

"Thank you Corporal. Captain Kerry-Ann Lloyd. New surgeon."

Klinger's heavy eyebrows disappeared almost beneath his hat.

"You're the new surgeon!? Sorry sir, Wow! You're a lot prettier than anyone here was expecting...that is, we were kind of..."

Captain Lloyd grinned, showing a set of perfect white teeth and an engaging smile.

"Expecting your new surgeon to be a man? General Hamilton reacted the same way when I first arrived in Seoul! He did a triple take when he saw I was a woman. But don't worry. You'll find I can mend a man with the best of them. Where is everyone?"

"They're all in surgery, sir. We certainly need another doctor urgently right now. Casualties are backing up fast."

"Very well. Put this somewhere safe for now and show me where to scrub."

The man Klinger took her bag from her, showed her where to change her clothes and scrub and left her to it. She changed swiftly into trousers and smock and swept her long black hair securely onto her head and covered it with a protective surgeon's hat. She made her way through to the scrub room, where she found an older man, around sixty or so years of age sitting on a bench and taking a well earned breather. She smiled to herself. This would have to be Colonel Sherman T. Potter, her new commanding officer.

"Colonel Potter?"

He opened his eyes and jumped as he saw her.

"Hello Colonel. I'm Captain Kerry Lloyd. New surgeon."

The Colonel grinned at her.

"You're a might prettier than I was expecting, Captain."

"So I hear. I'm sorry for being a woman sir, but I am worth the wages, really!"

"Where are you from Captain?"

"Crabapple cove, Maine."

He nodded, smiling.

"Then you might know our chief surgeon; he hails from your hometown. Captain Benjamin Franklin Pierce."

Lloyd stared at him, a look of surprise on her face.

"Hawkeye? Hawkeye Pierce is here at the 4077th? He's my cousin, sir. Our fathers were twins."

Potter's jaw dropped.

"You're Pierce's cousin? Well I'll be! I guess you'll not have seen him in a while"

"Its been at least five years sir."

"What about your working relationship?

"We're both adults sir, and professionals. I'm sure things'll be okay."

"I hope so Captain, because we have a lot of work to do out there. Let me know if you need me for anything at all. We'd better get to it."

Doctor Kerry Lloyd's reception in the OR was mixed to say the least. Hawkeye looked up and caught the newcomer's eye and gave her a nod, but said nothing at all. Major Winchester's only comment was a reference to the wisdom of allowing women doctors into a war zone. He was met with a chorus of boos and hisses from the nurses in the room, and a laugh from a tall thin doctor at the farthest end of the room.

"You really are prehistoric, Charles!" he said. "Personally I welcome a lady doctor to the 4077th. She'll make a pleasant change from staring at your ugly mug every day! Don't you think so Hawk?"

Hawkeye looked up and caught his cousin looking at him. He grunted.

"Ready to close nurse. 3-0 silk."

Pierce, Potter, Hunnicut, Winchester and Lloyd worked steadily around the clock, the four male doctors observing the work of their newest recruit, and against their expectations, they were greatly impressed. She was skilled and swift, and was able to concentrate regardless of the noise and confusion around her. She barely even looked up when a shell went off outside the building making the whole hospital shake. She merely leant over her patient until the dust had stopped falling, and then continued without a comment. When she spoke, it was in a steady, low tone, a calming voice that made the frightened nurse beside her calm down considerably. After twenty-six hours straight, she finally looked up.

"Captain Pierce, can you spare me for an hour or two? I badly need some sleep. I don't want to start making mistakes."

Hawkeye was surprised. He had been wondering how she would deal with the formal working relationship thing. She had even asked her chief surgeon for permission to take a break rather than telling him as she must have noticed the others doing. She was making it clear to him that she was accepting the situation, and ready to follow his direction. He nodded, twinkling at her for the first time.

"Of course doctor. Get a couple of hours sleep. We'll send for you if things get too hectic."

When she was gone, BJ finished with his patient and turned around to face his friend.

"You were very cool to her weren't you buddy? Didn't you see her legs? I could go for those legs if I weren't a married man! It's nothing to do with her being a doctor is it?"

Hawkeye rolled his eyes.

"BJ, there is no way I could ever fall in love with that doctor!"

"On account of Professional jealousy?" Winchester chuckled from behind. Hawkeye gave him a withering look.

"On account of the fact that she is my cousin, hotshot! Her name is Kerry-Anne Pierce Lloyd, daughter of the late Philip and Olivia Pierce, of Crabapple Cove, Maine."

BJ whistled.

"So that's why! I wondered why her style seemed so familiar! We have another Pierce on our hands here folks."

Hawkeye retrieved the last sponge and looked up.

"Ready to close now Margaret. Colonel, is Captain Lloyd here to stay or merely here to enjoy the scenery for a few days?"

"Nope, she's here to stay Hawkeye. Why? Is that a problem?"

"No sir."

That night Hawkeye sat brooding, hunched on his bunk staring at a dirty magazine perched on his knees. BJ was shaking his head in exasperation.

"Hawkeye, what's with you today? If you two have a problem, why don't you go and talk it out? She's your cousin isn't she? She's your own flesh and blood? I'd have thought you'd be pleased to see her!"

"I am Beej! But I'm not pleased to see her here! She should be at home knitting socks and making Dutch apple pie."

BJ rolled his eyes.

"There are a lot of women out here Hawk. Kerry has a bigger chance of getting killed back home in the states crossing a road than she has out here. You know that!"

Hawkeye growled.

"Don't quote figures to me BJ. I've been here too long. There are so many things here that can turn a man insane. The long hours working without sleep, shitty food, mindless boredom, bombs and shells going off any hour of the day or night, fears creeping up your spine in the dark hours of the night when you can't get to sleep after a forty-eight hour work-shift. What helps me keep going is the knowledge that my family is safely at home, waiting for me to get back there. Knowing that if dad needs anything, he need only pick up the phone and Kerry will be there for him. That is where she belongs. Why is she here with me feeding the fleas?"

BJ shook his head.

"I understand all that Hawkeye, but you're not worrying about your dad right now. I think you're worrying most about yourself! What is it that is really bothering you? What is the real reason you don't want her here?"

Hawkeye closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. When he replied, he sounded tired out, defeated.

"BJ, Kerry is more than a cousin to me. We have always been as close as brother and sister. Closer. We lived only a few doors apart when we were kids. We share the same birthday, we were in and out of each others homes all our lives. We liked the same things. We even looked alike when we were kids! We've been almost as close as twins. I am terrified of something happening to her. So scared I can't think straight. That's why I don't want her here. I'm glad to see her, of course I am, but if I...I just 't bear the thought of losing her. She must know how I felt about it. Why? Why?"

BJ was moved. He dropped the irritation from his voice.

"Hawkeye, maybe she had no more choice about coming here than we did. This is hardly a popular holiday destination after all! Anyway, you still ought to go talk to her. You'll have to sooner or later."

He nodded.

"I know Beej. Thanks. Listen, that stuff I just said...between you and me, huh?"

BJ nodded.

"Scouts honour. Now go!"

Hawkeye knocked at the door of the new tent that had been erected at the end of the compound. The door opened. Kerry stood there.

She had changed into her purple bathrobe, the one Hawkeye had bought for her that matched his own, loosed her hair and was wearing it around her shoulders. It was a great deal longer than when Hawkeye had last seen her, and to his surprise, it was wavy and inclined to curl about the ends. She stood aside without a word and he entered silently. He sat on her bed and looked up at her.

"You did great work in OR."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't do that."

"You started it Ben."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I was wondering which of us would give in first. I was hoping it would be you. I had the distinct impression that you were not happy to see me!"

"I would have been delighted to see you back in Maine, but not here! Not like this, Kerry. Were you drafted, or did you volunteer?"

"I was drafted, not that it makes any difference now I'm here."

"And what if something happens to you Kerry? What if you die out here when you could have been safely at home?"

A tear rolled unbidden down her nose, and Hawkeye wiped it away in alarm.

"What's the matter?"

"Ben, Mike was killed in action three weeks ago. All I have left is you and Uncle Dan. I know your dad will be fine. All of Crabapple Cove is watching out for him. After all, he brought most of them into the world. They're all worrying about you, too. At least whilst I'm here I have you where I can keep my eye on you. I've lost my husband, and I have no intention of losing my favourite cousin Hawkeye if I can help it. If anything should happen to you, I want to be right there beside you. I don't give a damn what happens to me, so long as you are alright. Whatever it is, so long as we go through it together, what the hell else matters?"

"Oh god, I'm sorry about Mike."

"His ship was hit by a torpedo. It went down, with the loss of all hands. That's another reason I'm not sorry to be here Hawk. At home, everywhere I go I see the ghosts of you and Mike. Places you went to together, the things you did, the pranks you played...and the places he took me in between all of that. I need to focus my mind on something other than myself. Keep busy."

He nodded.

"Hi Kiwi."

"Hi Hawk."

They hugged one another tightly, understanding one another perfectly, as always.

Hawkeye looked happier when he returned to the Swamp, to BJ's relief. Hawkeye was usually lots of fun to be with, but when he was worried or upset about anything, he became a real misery. Short tempered as well as hot-tempered, snappy, moody and depressed. BJ knew even he could really only guess at the real Hawkeye hidden behind the jokes and pranks, because it had become a mask that Hawkeye wore so well and so constantly, it had become almost a part of him. But inside, he was a great deal more sensitive and vulnerable than most people realized. Colonel Potter of course could see through a ten-inch plank. He was not deceived for one single minute. BJ suspected that besides himself, the Colonel was the only other person before whom Hawkeye sometimes allowed the mask to slip a little, and expose the person beneath...that is, with the possible exception of Major Houlihan.

Hawkeye and Houlihan had had a very up and down relationship off duty, frequently antagonistic, and although they evidently had always had great admiration for each other's skill and dedication, they had never hit it off socially...until recently.

The two of them had recently been in one or two tight spots together, and had been forced to rely heavily on each other. Those were the times it was inevitable that people would see more than just the surface. Margaret had had a glimpse or two of the real Hawkeye, and obviously with it, had received a profound insight into understanding him. That their off-duty friendship was now warmer and a lot less antagonistic was an indicator of how much more she now understood and admired him. It would be interesting to see how she would get on with the new doctor.

Kerry found it very hard to sleep that night. She recalled her first sight of Hawkeye when she had entered the OR that day, and the look he had given her, although it might have seemed very neutral to everyone else, it had been perfectly clear to her. It was a look that had said something like; `Oh god, I knew this would happen eventually! What in heavens name are you doing here?' The nod had been something of an afterthought. Well, she had predicted his reaction, but in the end, Uncle Dan had been right. He had accepted the situation, and even if they never said another word to each other, they each knew that they had each other for comfort whenever they needed it. They were in the thick of things together, and they would be there for each other. She was going to miss Hawkeye's father, but she knew how much he had been missing Hawkeye all this time. If he knew the two of them were together, even though stuck in a war zone, he would be reassured somehow.

She lay awake for most of the night, and as dawn crept through the crack in the door-frame, she gave up trying to sleep and got herself up. She had brought a jug of water into her tent the night before, so she washed and cleaned her teeth, made her bed and dressed in her army fatigues, as yet still highly pressed and unworn. She looked at herself in the small mirror she had brought in her bag, and wondered what the women did with their hair here. Finally, she plaited it tightly, and wound the plait tightly on the top of her head and covered it with an army cap. She grinned at the face that now looked surprisingly like Hawkeye's. Not too surprisingly perhaps, seeing that their fathers had been identical twins. Her parents were long gone now, and as Hawkeye was very much like his father to look at, he also constantly reminded her of her own father.

Her face was softer, more rounded of course, a feminine face. It was very much a feminine version of Hawkeye's face in fact. She grinned at her reflection and noted Hawkeye's impish grin in the glass. She rolled her eyes and giggled. What would the camp make of her?

What time did the Mess tent open? She wondered. She was on duty in post op in an hour or so, so maybe she could at least get herself a coffee first? She left her tent and made her way round the compound, looking with interest at the various tents, noting their varying uses.

There were three nurses tents, each housing between four to six nurses, a number of larger tents housing the enlisted men, and several smaller ones housing the sergeants, corporals and the camp priest. Major Houlihan had her own tent, evidently. As she passed the door, it opened and the head nurse herself came out and smiled at her.

"Good morning Captain."

"Good morning Major. I was just exploring this place a little. You seem to have everything you need around here within easy reach. Even to the river I notice."

Houlihan nodded, beaming.

"I've been in worse places, captain. Tell me, are you really Captain Pierce's cousin?"

Lloyd shrugged.

"You won't hold it against me will you?"

Houlihan smiled.

"I'll try not to. By the way, you can call me Margaret."

"Margaret? Well, I'm Kerry. Tell me Margaret, can I get a coffee before I go on duty?"

"Sure. Please join me!"

When Hawkeye and BJ arrived in the Mess tent twenty minutes later, they saw doctor Kerry Lloyd sitting beside Margaret, with six other nurses around her and chatting away as if she had known them all their lives. BJ nudged his friend.

"She won't be giving away family secrets will she? Anything embarrassing?"

Hawkeye shook his head immediately.

"Never. Kerry's not like that Beej. She'll tell the funny stories, or the sad ones, or embarrassing ones of her own, but she'll give them nothing embarrassing about me unless I say its okay. She's alright."

"Well, she's lost no time settling down has she? Center of attention, everyone hanging on her every word...reminds me of someone else I know!"

Hawkeye grinned.

"What else do you expect? She's a Pierce! Come on."

Hawkeye eyed the powdered eggs and toast and shook his head in distaste.

"Ugh, no thanks! I'll stick to coffee!"

He filled a mug with hot strong coffee and wandered over to the nurse's table. He stuck his head between nurse Kelly and nurse Able.

"Can anyone join in?"

Kerry smiled inwardly as she noticed their reaction to him. They all seemed to blush slightly at his touch or his smile, and they willingly shuffled aside to make room for him. Obviously Hawkeye was quite the favourite around here. He sat down, sipped his coffee and winced.

"This coffee is worse than usual. Almost as bad as yours, Kiwi."

Kerry raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Then why don't you mop it up with a little toast? Here Kid, have mine!"

Before the eyes of her delighted table-sharers, she picked up a slice of toast, folded it in half and stuffed it in his coffee. Hawkeye stared at his mug, full of soggy, coffee drenched toast and remembered the last time he had tried that trick. It was the last time they had breakfasted together, before he had left Crabapple Cove to come to this awful place. They had had a minor disagreement, which he had won by stuffing _his_ toast into _her_ coffee. He considered briefly getting his own back with another trick, several possibilities of which were very tempting. He discarded the idea. Revenge was sweeter when it was served up cold. He merely laughed.

"Touche! Sleep well last night?"

"Not a wink. You?"

"Like a top. You'll get used to the cots..."

"I'm sure I will Hawk. What I won't get used to is having you as chief surgeon! Last time we worked together it was me..."

Hawkeye grinned.

"I remember! You were the head of surgery, and managed to get yourself lost on your way to the hospital!"

"Hey Kid, I may have been driving, you were navigating!" Kerry replied with a chuckle. She turned to Margaret sat beside her. "He took us sixty miles in the wrong direction before he realized he was holding the map upside down!"

The nurses hooted with laughter, and Hawkeye joined in. What neither he or Kerry had bothered to mention was the fact that the map had been borrowed from a Chinese associate, and that all the place names and directions on the map had been written in Chinese figures.

Soon Kerry looked at her watch.

"Hey, I'd better go. I'm doing post op in ten minutes. It was good to meet all you guys. I'll see you later."

She stood up and gave her cousin a wink.

"See ya Kid."

"Kiwi!"

She left the Mess tent, and Margaret turned to face Hawkeye.

"Why do you call her Kiwi?"

Pierce grinned suddenly, turning pink at the ears.

"Well, when I was very tiny, I could never say `Kerry' properly. It always came out as `Kiwi', and it stuck."

"Hawkeye and Kiwi Pierce. Why do they sound so perfect? Honestly Hawkeye, she seems very nice and very sensible, so why do I get the feeling that we have somehow inherited another Hawkeye?"

Colonel Potter, cautious as ever, kept a discreet eye on his new doctor for the first few days. What struck him almost more than anything else, was how much she appeared to care. When a patient was in pain, she appeared to be in pain along with him. Even with a patient unable to receive any immediate pain relief, she seemed to know just what to say, (and what not to say), and was often able, by applying very gentle pressure, and massage, to take away the edge of pain. The patients quickly learnt to look out for her, and responded well to her treatment.

Some of the nurses had worried a little about how they would relate to her, but they were all pleasantly surprised. They found her relaxed and un-flurried manner refreshing. She was softly spoken, and never seemed to show any fear of the shells, or jump at the sudden bangs. Finally, the fourth day after her arrival, Potter invited her to his office for a drink.

Kerry sat in Potter's office, sipping her drink, listening with amusement to her commanding officer's recital of some of Hawkeye's funniest pranks. Finally, they finished chuckling and Potter leaned forward in his chair.

"You know Captain, I've been watching your work for the past few days."

She nodded, her eye fixed on the liquid in her glass.

"I noticed that sir. Do I pass the test?"

"With flying colours, my dear. You know, up until now, I'd have had no hesitation in saying that Pierce was my best surgeon. Now I'm not so sure. You are damn good. Nothing to choose between you from what I can see."

Kerry shook her head.

"Hawkeye's better than I am Colonel. I am a very good surgeon, but I chose a broader base knowledge, rather than specialize at brilliance. Hawkeye is brilliant at everything he does in surgery, he is able to turn his hand to any surgical problem and is inspired rather than phased by new challenges. I took the liberty of looking through some of the 4077th's patient histories yesterday, and I found that although Hawkeye is not officially a trained neurosurgeon, he has more than once tackled severe surgical cases that would have made a specialist blench! I am trained in neurosurgery, and I can safely say that there is very little I learned formally, that Hawkeye has not picked up through experience."

Potter raised his eyebrows.

"That makes sense I suppose. Hawk is definitely the most versatile surgeon I have ever worked with, bar none! But you do yourself an injustice. I told you I've been watching you work. Your surgery is technically perfect, your manner is professional, but I am most impressed by your performance in Post-Op. You seem to have the gift for putting people at ease and helping patients relax better than a dose of sedative. You seem to steady people's nerves!"

Kerry giggled.

"Learning how to be calm under pressure is something I had to learn at an early age, Colonel. If you're waiting to see how much I can take without breaking or reacting, don't hold your breath. I will let you into one little secret, Colonel. The more the pressure I'm under and the harder it is for me to cope, the more I concentrate on my work. If I appear to be ignoring everyone else, if someone speaks to me about something irrelevant, and I ignore him, the likelihood is that I am feeling the pressure and concentrating extra hard. I will not have even heard anything."

"Any clue as to when to force you to let go?"

"If I begin to obsess...that might be a good clue. Other than that, I couldn't say, sir."

"Well, I'll keep it in mind Captain. I'll give you a piece of friendly advice though, from someone with a lot of hash marks. Don't be afraid to ask for help, and don't be afraid to accept it either, even if you think you don't need it. Everyone keeps an eye on everyone else here at the 4077th. If someone offers to help you out, it's often because they can see the problem you can't see because you're too close to it, if you see what I mean."

"I understand what you're saying Colonel, and thank you. I'll keep it in mind."

Kerry left the Colonel's office and stepped into the compound. She looked around. This was the first day since her arrival that no new patients had come in. The few patients left in the hospital were almost ready to leave. Now was time to relax a little and have some fun. What did they do around here when they wanted to relax? She smiled and headed towards the swamp.


	2. Chapter 2 - Memories from a Photograph

Kerry Pierce Lloyd relaxed on her cousin's bed, whilst Hawkeye sat beside BJ sipping something very potent from a long stemmed glass. Kerry sipped hers cautiously and spluttered instantly..

"Wow! That'd keep a jeep running if you run out of gas around here"

Hawkeye grinned.

"Want another?"

"Thanks!" Kerry replied, holding out her glass, her eyes twinkling. "I came from the Colonel's office. He's quite something. He's got the measure of me already, Hawk."

"There's nothing gets past the Colonel." BJ noted. "He can see through Armour-plate I'm sure of that."

Hawkeye caught Kerry's eye. She smirked at the look on his face.

"Does he see through you?"

"Oh, Potter's not fooled. He'll sit back and let things ride for the most part, but he's no fool. If any of us take things too far, he comes down like a ton of bricks."

Kerry accepted another full glass from BJ and sipped at it.

"He's certainly not what I expected. I checked up on him you know, before I left Seoul and I learned he's a regular army man. Somehow I expected him to be strictly regulation, and I couldn't help wondering how he manages to get a bunch of surgeons to operate smoothly under strict army restrictions. I realized things were not as I imagined as soon as I landed."

"How was that?" Hawkeye asked her. She grinned and gestured with her free hand to a swarthy man in a yellow frou-frou skirt passing by outside.

"Corporal Klinger met me off the chopper. A regular army colonel who allows Klinger to dress like he does during a crisis can't be all bad."

"Potter's all right." BJ nodded. "So how have you found your first week here? Care to stay?"

Kerry pulled a face.

"Is this the way it always goes? Manic activity when twenty-four hours work a day isn't enough followed by total boredom?"

"This is it Kiwi."

"Sounds like my kind of town. Perhaps I'll stick around for a bit. By the way Hawkeye, I have something for you. When Uncle Dan knew I was being drafted over here he gave it to me as a way to remind me of home."

She pulled out a thick brown padded envelope from her jacket pocket and fingered it for a moment.

"The thing is…I have one similar already, and I can't bear to look at it. Right now it's too great a reminder of what I've lost…"

Kerry looked very sad, as memories washed over her. BJ looked slightly confused, but Hawkeye's eyes were full of compassion. He swept her into his arms and held her until she pulled away and sniffed.

"Thanks." She said softly, "I think your dad would have wanted you to have a copy of it if he had had any idea I would end up with the same unit. Anyway, _I_ want you to have it."

She handed over the envelope. Hawkeye took it and after a moment, he opened it and pulled out a large framed photograph. He stared at it, his eyes wide. He remembered this day so well. It was a photo of himself, in his own civilian clothing; blue denim jeans, red and white plaid shirt, black leather jerkin and black boots, wearing a cowboy hat. Beside him were his father similarly dressed in jeans and black plaid shirt, Kerry in full flowing gingham and looking gorgeous, linking arms with her then new husband Mike. It had been the day of the dance, a barn dance arranged by the older women of Crabapple Cove in celebration of everything that was wonderful before their first son, Michael James Lloyd left to take up his new post in the navy. The three of them were standing before the open doors of the large barn, dancing still taking place inside. Hawkeye's eyes misted slightly as the memories came flooding back. It was the last evening he had been with Mike, before Mike had left to join his ship. He had never seen Mike in the flesh after that. Mike's first leave, Hawkeye had just been drafted to Korea, and had just been shipped out. Correspondence had been very unreliable. They had both decided to stay in touch with each other through Kerry, whom they both knew was at least, safe.

He looked up. Kerry had tears in her eyes, but she was smiling.

"Do you remember that day, Hawkeye?"

"Like it was yesterday."

"Do you remember getting into a fight with Mike?"

Hawkeye, in the act of sipping his drink spluttered, and BJ had to pound him on the back.

"Who's Mike?" BJ asked. Kerry took the photo from Hawkeye and handed it to BJ.

"Mike is my late husband. He's the one there in uniform. He and Hawkeye got into some kind of argument and started brawling all over the dance floor...about two minutes after this picture was taken."

Hawkeye started laughing helplessly.

"I can't even remember what we were fighting about now. I just remember how it ended!"

Kerry chuckled and downed her drink. Hawkeye was still laughing helplessly. BJ frowned.

"Well, go on! You Can't stop a story half way through! How did it end?"

"It ended when Mike decided enough was enough and he picked up the trifle bowl and threw it at me." Hawkeye chortled. Kerry rolled her eyes trying to look cross. BJ looked from one to the other. He pulled at his hair in a dramatic gesture.

"This is like pulling teeth! I am _dying_ here. Will one of you _please_ tell me what happened!?"

Kerry finally lost control and started laughing. Hawkeye laughed with her. BJ groaned.

"I am going to throw something at you in a minute. WHAT HAPPENED?"

"Hawkeye dropped to the floor out of the way and the pudding bowl landed on my head. THAT'S what happened!" Kerry told him finally. "Mike was so mad at Hawkeye for getting me covered in trifle that the fight started all over again. What started as a pleasant country-town dance, finished in a massive Laurel and Hardy-type free-for-all food-fight, where everyone ended up covered in chocolate, and cream…all except for Hawkeye. When Mike and I finally got out of there, covered in cream from head to foot, we found Hawkeye sitting under the tree, clean as could be, watching the fight with a big grin all over his face."

BJ laughed. Hawkeye grinned. Kerry shook her head.

"You started the fight, Hawk, but why?"

Hawkeye stopped laughing and became serious.

"Well you know Kiwi, that dance was supposed to be a goodbye celebration, something wonderful which Mike would always be able to remember with a smile, a story to talk about to his mates on the ship, the way his hometown threw a big party and dance to wish him good bye and good-luck. But when I went in there and looked around, everyone was looking so sad and gloomy, despite the music and the food. They were all thinking how much they would miss him, and what if something happens to him? I mean, the pair of you were probably worrying about that enough as it was without the whole of Crabapple Cove crying all over you. I just decided to make the evening a memorable one for…other reasons. Give you both a reason someday to remember it with a laugh."

Kerry stared at her cousin, then reached out and gave him a sudden hug.

"Thank you. You did good Hawkeye. You did good."

As she left the swamp, late that evening and headed back to her own tent, she reflected on what Hawkeye had told her. He had started that food fight, deliberately, to give her and Mike a funny memory rather than a sad or wistful one to look back upon. It had worked. Whenever she had started to miss her husband, her mind had automatically gone back to his goodbye party…then the food fight, the sight of Mike with a strawberry stuck on the end of his nose topped with cream would always then reduce her to fits of giggles. Letters from Mike had assured her that the tale of his Crabapple Cove send-off had had similar effects upon him and his crewmates.

Yes, Hawkeye had done good.


	3. Chapter 3 Just Passing Through

It was late afternoon when the sun shone down hot and sultry, the camp was bathed in a shimmery heat haze when a Korean family, weary and footsore, three children stumbling bravely along, all of them drawn with weariness plodded slowly into the camp. The father was pushing a barrow…little more than a large plank of wood tied to a set of pram-wheels, with their few belongings piled up and tied not terribly securely with odd bits of rope and string. His wife was thin and haggard-looking, but with a bearing that suggested beauty and grace in better times.

The sentry on duty, Private Watkins gave a shout, and personnel appeared from all sides. Language was always something of a barrier, but it was easy enough to convey to the family that here in this place, for a while at least, they would find respite from their travels, food, drink, and shelter until they were ready to continue. The family were scooped up by various personnel and hurried off to the mess tent for food. The father and mother nodded gratefully; the two elder children, boys aged around ten and thirteen. The youngest, an angelic looking little girl of about six looked around without fear, and as her parents followed their two sons towards the mess tent, looked up at Kerry and held her arms out, a sweet angelic smile on her face. Kerry's heart melted. She picked the child up and felt the little one wrap her arms around her neck.

"Come on baby, let's take you to get something to eat, shall we?"

None of the family spoke any English, and no one in the camp spoke more than a few halting words in Korean, so under the circumstances, using the few words they knew, plus gesturing and pointing, the staff of the 4077th made a reasonable job of communicating with their visitors.

The family found that these hospitable strangers gave them new sturdier shoes to wear, fixed their wheelbarrow and oiled the wheels to make it easier to push, gave them all the food they could eat plus several days' worth of food and water to carry with them. They were given somewhere sheltered to spend the night, and the following day, after a breakfast in the mess tent with the rest of the camp, the family, all smiles and waving madly, continued on their weary journey, feeling rested and invigorated. Once the family were out of sight, Kerry stayed put for several minutes, staring at the last spot she had seen them. A hand touched her shoulder. She looked round. It was Major Houlihan.

"You okay, Kerry?"

Kerry turned and smiled.

"Margaret. I was just realizing how little I know about this country, her people, their culture or their language. They have a war going on around them that they are simply trying to survive. That family seemed surprised and grateful that we were willing to help them."

"I expect they were. Life is not easy for these people. I've picked up a few words of Korean since I've been here. Enough to learn that their village was destroyed by north Korean shells, and they are refugees travelling south as far as they can get."

"Trying to escape from the war? I felt like we should have packed them into a jeep and driven them wherever they wanted to go."

Margaret looked sympathetic.

"I know Kerry. We all feel that way. Sometimes it is possible to do just that, but there are so many people being displaced by the war, it would be impossible to do that for all of them. We do what we _can_ do. We give them whatever medical assistance they need, give them shelter for as long as they need it, food and clothing if necessary and help them on their way."

Kerry looked sad. Margaret put an arm around her shoulders.

"Some free advice, for what it's worth? It's good that you care. We all care, but you need to try and treat this the way you would any normal medical situation back home."

"Professional detachment?" Kerry replied, with a questioning look. Margaret nodded. Kerry sighed.

"I have a feeling that is going to be a tough one out here. I am used to the kind of injuries we get here, trauma, lots of blood and death, typical Saturday night shift in emergency back in New York where I did my residency. But this is not just automobile accidents, shootings, stabbings between people who know better. This involves innocent civilians, children, babies!"

"I know, and it is hard, but you can't afford to let yourself get caught up too deeply in all of this, or you'll find yourself at the bottom of a deep hole that you can't get out of."

Kerry sighed deeply, and slightly shakily. Being in the middle of a war was clearly more than just trying to help the patients whilst not getting killed yourself, it involved the people who lived here all the time. The people to whom this hell-hole was actually _home_. She smiled her thanks to the Major and made her way, as was her wont, to the swamp.

To her relief, Hawkeye was alone. Charles was in the lab and BJ was on duty in post-op. He looked up and saw something was wrong as soon as she opened the door. He smiled cheerfully at her.

"Those people are why we are here, Kiwi."

"Huh?"

Hawkeye crinkled his eyes and handed her his glass. She took it and took a sip, screwing up her face, then drained it. He took the glass from her hand, refilled it for her and handed it back.

"There is a lot to hate about this place, but don't lose yourself in sadness about a family like that. They are a good thing. The family is alive and safe, and travelling together away from the fighting. When they get far enough away, they'll be picked up by the UN Red cross volunteers who'll see that they are taken good care of."

Kerry nodded.

"I guess now I'm here it's all starting to sink in how futile all of this is. Why are they even fighting? What are we doing here Hawk? Patching these kids together, and then send them straight out to fight again. A kid I worked on during my first shift had a healed abdominal injury that you treated six months ago. I patched him up, and in a couple of weeks he'll be back at the front with his unit again. Who knows, he'll likely be killed next time round. And through it all, ordinary hard working civilian families like those people today are being displaced and forced to flee. Its senseless Hawkeye."

Hawkeye nodded.

"I know."

He drew her into a warm, brotherly hug, then released her and smiled.

"We are here to help everyone and anyone who needs it, Kiwi. I try not to think too deeply about our job here, because like you, it can very quickly make you depressed and unable to cope. We _are_ here for the soldiers, but we're also here for people like that family. Father Mulcahy works with the local orphanage, begging for money to buy them much needed supplies, pilfering from camp supplies when the Colonel agrees to it, and whenever necessary, even going to the black market to get what they need. More than once the kids have sheltered with _us_ when the shelling gets bad. We put `em up wherever we can find room. We make regular trips to the local villages to treat those who are sick or injured. We've even delivered babies here. If there _can_ be anything good in the middle of a bloody war, it's us."

Kerry nodded slowly, and presently she started to grin again.

"Thanks Hawk. I'd better get going. I'm relieving BJ in post op in twenty minutes, and last time I looked there was a ten-minute queue for the latrine."

"Ten-minute queue?"

She grinned evilly.

"Only one working latrine for the women at the moment. Someone nailed the lids closed on all the others and they are all so desperate to go, Sergeant Wilkins hasn't been able to get in there to fix them!"

"Why would anyone nail the latrine lids closed?" Hawkeye asked in surprise, then his eyes opened wide. "You!?"

Kerry laughed out loud.

"I spent the first couple of days here listening to nurses complain about the state of the latrines, and how they miss their state-of-the-art bathrooms back home. I just figured if they spent a few days with only one working latrine to use, they would soon remember how wonderful it is to have a latrine at all. The alternative after all hardly bears thinking about."

Hawkeye laughed.

"Don't let Margaret know it was you. She'll go into orbit!"

"Don't worry. Hey, really gotta go. See you later."

Several hours later, sometime after midnight, Klinger was awakened by the jangling of the telephone, followed five minutes later by the sound of a helicopter coming in to land. Kerry had just handed over post-op duty to the Colonel, and was walking across the compound. She took off at the run for the lower helipad, joined by all of the senior staff. Klinger skidded to a halt beside them, as they watched the chopper coming in to land.

"Just two casualties, sir!" He bellowed over the din. "A civilian family were caught in an explosion when a shell was dropped from a plane five miles south of here. Three of them were killed instantly. Only two survivors!"

Kerry felt her heart begin to thump in her chest. No, it couldn't be. No, please…

She felt Hawkeye restraining her, and turned to yell at him to let her go, and at the look on his face the words died in her throat. Instead she watched as the two stretchers were loaded onto the back of the litter-jeep. She stared. The casualties were a boy around eleven she guessed, and an elderly man. BJ shouted something to Winchester, who nodded and jumped on to the jeep for a ride back down to the hospital. BJ ran over to where Hawkeye and his cousin were standing, side by side.

"Hawk, severe injuries, but not dangerous. Shrapnel wounds, broken limbs and a dislocation. Charles and I will deal with it. You two look like you need a belt. See you in the swamp later."

Hawkeye clapped BJ on the back, as the tall, gangly man ran lightly after the jeep. Hawkeye wrapped his arm around his cousin and walked her back to her tent. Inside, he sat beside her on her bed.

"Are you going to be all right?"

Kerry stared at him, tears filling her eyes suddenly.

"Why Hawk? Those two people, a kid and an old man have just lost the rest of their family, and I was glad! I was glad because it wasn't the others…I hate war Hawkeye! I hate this lousy war! I hate what people do to each other. I hate what it is doing to me!"

Hawkeye shook his head.

"Hey kiddo, it's culture-shock. You've not been here more than a few days. It'll take a while, but you _will_ learn to deal with it."

"I hope I won't!"

"If you don't Kerry, you'll end up at the funny farm. Hey, it's brutal. It's not wrong to get upset. People get hurt. Just remember, my shoulders are here for you whenever you need them."

Kerry nodded.

"Thanks…" Against her will, he could see her lip quivering. A fat tear rolled down her nose.

"Can I have one of them right now?"

The tears started to fall, so Hawkeye held her close whilst she wept until she fell asleep. He removed her shoes, laid her out on the bed and covered her over and crept from the tent. Outside Margaret Houlihan was waiting. She fell into step beside Hawkeye as he returned to the Swamp.

"Is she all right?"

Hawkeye smiled at her.

"She will be now." He replied.


	4. Chapter 4 - Dear Uncle Dan

Dear Uncle Dan

So, I made it safely to Korea, not that I really had any doubt that I would, of course. Somehow I had expected my drafting to be something like the start of a new term at a new school, when you turn up at the gates with a bunch of other kids, all equally as nervous as you are; but although I turned up all right, I was alone at these particular "school gates". I was the only surgeon draftee. The others were all private soldiers, no doubt destined to die for our country somewhere on the front line.

I had been given a rundown of the different likely postings I might receive on arrival here, and they ranged from a posting to an aid-station right on the front lines where the survival rate is not terribly encouraging; to a nice safe post in one of the evacuation hospitals here in Seoul. I am human after all uncle, I found myself secretly hoping for some nice, safe posting where I could serve out my time here helping as many as possible without putting my rear end in the line of fire. Hmmm. My new posting was not what I was hoping for, and yet on the other hand, it does have its redeeming features.

I was sent to a M*A*S*H unit just a couple of miles behind the front lines, with a success rate of ninety-seven-point-something percent, which is about as good as it can get in a war zone. They are an outstanding bunch of people here, and despite the noises, the bombs and the shelling, the bad food, and the shortage of water, toilet-paper and rubber gloves, morale here seems to run at a pretty high level. In part, down to our chief surgeon…none other than our own beloved Hawkeye!

Uncle Dan, I know how much you worry about Hawkeye being in the middle of this senseless war, and I know you were worrying about me too, once you learned that I too was being drafted out here. Please try not to worry too much. Both of us are absolutely fine. Missing you and Crabapple Cove like mad, but otherwise fine. Since the two of us are now working together, assigned to the same outfit, we are able to watch out for each other.

It _is_ a dangerous place, I can't lie to you about that, but to be honest with you Uncle, now that I am here, I realize what an amazing difference I can make here. I could have been assigned as someone's private surgeon, but here we save lives. We give life here. What more could I want? I'd sooner be back in Maine dealing with varicose veins, but if I have to be out here dealing with the heat and cold and lice and bedbugs then I can at least be in a place where I can actually save men's lives.

I did wonder how Hawk would react when he saw me. I was slightly surprised at how long it took him to come to my tent to see me. He was shocked to learn about Mike. I could have written to him as you suggested when it first happened, but now I'm here, I'm glad I waited to tell him face to face. You can probably guess how that conversation went.

You should see your son here, Uncle Dan. As the chief surgeon, he is the one who runs the outfit when it comes to surgery, gives the help and advice whenever needed and becomes everybody's kindly professor. In surgery and dealing with patients he is the complete professional; but off duty?

My first two days here were spent in the OR before I even got to see the inside of my quarters, but by the end of the same week, the fighting had moved away several miles away, and we found ourselves a unit of idlers. I was half expecting the result to be men getting themselves drunk at the officers' club, leading to fights and quarrels and all sorts of problems…just what anyone might expect. But not here at the 4077th!

Hawkeye gets bored I think even more quickly than most; probably because he is a lot more intelligent than he lets on, and his mind needs to be continually active. He has found a brilliant way of dealing with his own boredom, and at the same time keeping the rest of the outfit from getting bored and starting to dwell on the terror of where we actually are and what could happen if the battle happened to squirt back in our direction again. I have heard stories from some of the nurses here about Hawkeye's pranks in the past, things he has arranged to keep everyone busy and diverted.

One time he apparently tried to set a world record by stuffing as many people as possible into a jeep! Everyone apparently had a lot of fun joining in, and I've even seen the photos to prove it!

Another time they tell me he glued Major Burns' boots to a couple of bedpans, and the Major was forced to spend three hours wearing them like that before he had time to _un_ -glue them. _That_ I would have liked to see!

This time the children at the local orphanage were invited over for a cook-out, with party games…the only stipulation being that every game had to partner one adult with one child. We had fun in the three-legged race, with adult/child partnerships. Most of the camp spent their time falling over and laughing fit to bust. The kids all had a great time. I was partnered with a four-year-old boy, and he was much better than I was. Every time I fell over he was urging me to hurry and get up again. Major Winchester and his little partner won the three-legged race; Corporal Klinger and the ten-year-old girl partnering him won the two-in-a-bag sack-race...the rest of us spent most of that race flat on our faces. I wonder if Klinger and Winchester were secretly practicing? Once the fun and games were over, the entire camp with all the kids packed into the mess tent to watch a movie. Someone had managed to get a copy of a Shirley Temple, and although the film was all in English, the kids were all glued to the screen. I have an idea that they had never experienced anything like that before.

All in all, it was a great day, and everyone, kids and M*A*S*H personnel alike all feel invigorated by it all. I would never have guessed when I left Maine that I would spend a day in a muddy Korean field frying sausages and bacon over a campfire, and competing in children's races. When we get home, perhaps we could organize something similar for the kids in our local orphanage?

Well, Uncle Dan, this was going to be a longer letter, but I've just had Klinger come by my tent to warn me that there will be the first of several waves of casualties arriving within twenty minutes, so I had better sign off and get myself over to Pre-op. It looks like we might be in for a long session, so I'll include this letter with the next packet, and I'll write again as soon as I can.

All my love

Your loving Niece,

Kerry


	5. Chapter 5 - The One Unbreakable Rule

"Captain Lloyd? Can I…?"

Kerry Lloyd stepped aside hurriedly, and Major Houlihan stepped inside her tent.

"Thank you…I was wondering if we might have a chat? You're not about to go on duty?"

Kerry shook her head.

"No. Graveyard shift for me tonight." She grimaced, then gestured to the bed.

"It's a little untidy and a lot lumpy, but feel free to sit on it major. How can I help you?"

"I..er…just thought we could talk…get to know each other a bit…"

Margaret could not understand why her stomach was turning somersaults. Why was she nervous? This was a doctor, but a female doctor, a lower ranking officer and that idiot Hawkeye's cousin to boot. No one to be nervous of! All the same, her mind went blank as she sat herself on the bed. She was unspeakably relieved when Kerry Lloyd smiled a smile just like Hawkeye's.

"That would be great. Please don't call me Captain though…unless there is some sort of regulation thing…I prefer to forget that this is an army unit in Korea and pretend it is simply a very noisy hospital!"

Margaret grinned.

"Of course, it's Kerry… _and Margaret_."

Kerry smiled.

"I purloined a bottle of battery acid from that cousin of mine…care for a drop?"

"Battery acid?"

"Compared to my late husband's home brew, yeah! As spirits go though, it's not too bad, At least it does the job."

Margaret nodded and accepted a modest glass of Hawkeye's brew. The two women sipped cautiously and then grinned.

"Somehow I had the impression that you would be…um…"

Kerry raised her eyebrows.

"A teetotaler?"

Margaret nodded and her companion smiled.

"I've been told that before."

Kerry seemed lost in thought for a moment, and Margaret frowned.

"Sorry, have I said something?"

Kerry shook herself and shook her head.

"No, no. It's only that…well, my mother was an alcoholic…"

"I'm sorry."

"She knew she was, and she tried hard to dry out, but she couldn't take it. Dad and uncle Dan had to put a twenty-four- hour watch on her to stop her doing herself an injury, but…"

"What happened?"

"One night she woke up sometime after midnight, and the friend sitting with her had dozed off…it wasn't his fault. Mom went to go downstairs to search for booze and she fell down the stairs and broke her neck. She died straight away."

"How terrible. How old were you?"

"I was nine…and I…"

To Margaret's consternation a tear rolled down her nose. Kerry wiped it away hurriedly.

"…I…I had pleaded with her not to drink, to try harder and she had promised she would get well, for me. I was in the kitchen getting myself a glass of milk when I heard the noise, and I saw it happen…"

Kerry regarded her glass for a moment, and put it down on the table.

"For several years after that I was obsessed. I was terrified that one glass of alcohol and the same thing would happen again. A friend's parents dropped me home one evening after a school dance. I must have been about fifteen. It was ten o'clock at night, and I found my dad and Uncle Dan both sozzled in the lounge, and Hawkeye in the kitchen finishing all the dregs from the empty bottles. I remember that I started screaming, terrified that the only three people I had left were going to die the same way my mother had. It took them a while to convince me that they were all okay. I think that was one of the reasons I decided to become a doctor; so that I would know for certain about alcohol, and how much is safe and how much is dangerous, and what to do if someone else I loved ever…"

Margaret nodded.

"So, you have had to learn the hard way that a little to drink is all right? You can be a teetotaler if you want to be Kerry. Even here, drinking is not compulsory."

Kerry forced a laugh.

"Oh, I have lived a bit, Margaret. I've been a student, and I've done the clubbing bit as well. I've swung a little the other way once or twice when it comes to drinking. Especially once I managed to grasp that it takes more than one drink to become addicted."

Margaret swallowed the last of her drink down, refused another and regarded her companion thoughtfully.

"It is easy to make assumptions about people when you don't know them well."

"I generally don't worry about things like that." Kerry replied. "I let people think whatever they want. I just do my work the best I can and handle everything else as it comes. Hawkeye taught me that lesson, when he had polio."

Margaret's eyes opened wide.

"Hawkeye had polio? How old was he?"

"Oh, about eleven. Uncle Dan was great with him, spent a lot of time with him, made him move, forced him to keep moving his legs, all the time, and got him through it. I was kept away from him in case I caught it. He would call to me through the window whenever he could, and we kept each other cheerful until he recovered and we could be together again."

"You two were close, as children?"

Kerry grinned.

"Were we ever? We were like brother and sister. We even fought like brother and sister too sometimes. We even looked very alike. Our fathers were identical twins."

"You look very like Hawkeye now, Kerry. A sort of softer, more rounded, feminine version of him. _Much_ better looking of course!"

"Oh, that goes without saying!"

There was a silence for a bit, and then, almost haltingly, Margaret said,

"Um…I don't mean to pry, but you mentioned that you have a late husband?"

Kerry inhaled deeply, as thinking about Mike always brought back a huge lump to her throat. She kept breathing deeply until she had herself under control once more, and then she nodded. Margaret looked mortified.

"I'm so sorry, I…?"

Kerry shook her head, hurriedly.

"Hey Margaret, it's alright, don't sweat it. I'll have to learn to talk about him without turning on the waterworks…"

"If you don't mind me asking, how long ago did you lose him?"

"Three weeks before I shipped out. He was in the navy. His ship was hit by a torpedo with the loss of all hands. It's been about…five weeks now."

Impulsively, Margaret leaned forward and enveloped the other woman in a hug.

"That's terrible. I'm so sorry. How long had it been since you were able to be with him?"

"About ten months I think…"

This conversation was not going the way Margaret had hoped. She wanted to get to know Kerry better, try to cheer her up a bit. But she had had no intention of bringing back all sorts of awful memories for her. Kerry seemed to read her mind. She gave a small smile.

"Sorry Margaret. I do seem to be all self-pity, today don't I? I still miss Mike like crazy, five weeks is no time at all. I still cry for him most nights, but I suppose that will fade in time. The thing is, today is the anniversary of the day I lost mom. With losing my husband and remembering mom, added to the fact that I am stuck out here thousands of miles away from home in the middle of a damned noisy war…well, I guess that is why the bottle."

"Isn't Hawkeye going to come and hold your hand? It's obvious how much he cares about you."

Kerry let out a laugh.

"He'd be round here in a moment if I let him, but I made him promise not to baby me. I told him I would go to him if I need him."

"He made that promise, did he?" Margaret sounded very disbelieving. Kerry nodded.

"Yes, he did. Why the doubtful look?"

Margaret laughed.

"Because this is the 4077th, that's why, Kerry. You are entitled to your privacy, but we all keep an eye on each other here. If Hawkeye or anyone else observes or even suspects that someone is feeling very down, well...you know. We try and do something about it."

Kerry stared at the head nurse, her eyes opening wider as the penny dropped with a loud clatter.

"Hang on…is that why you…?"

Margaret smiled at her.

"We've all had our ups and downs. There is one rule here that must never be broken."

"And that is?"

"That no one who is feeling down should be on their own any longer than necessary. So, with that in mind, the nurses and I are having a party in the nurses' tent, and you are coming."

"I am?"

"No alcohol, but we've all contributed cake, or sweets or something nice we've received from home, and as Major Winchester is on duty in post op, he has graciously allowed us to borrow his record player for a couple of hours. So, until you and Nurse Kelley go on duty, we are all going to have a little fun."

Margaret grinned.

"We've invited Hawkeye and BJ along. They are the best in the camp at inventing party games."

Kerry rolled her eyes.

"I know how good Hawkeye is." She retorted, but she couldn't help smiling. As Margaret stood up, she grabbed her arm.

"Margaret…thank you. I thought I was doing fine on my own."

Margaret nodded, smiling warmly.

"You are, captain." She said, "Believe me you are, but _together_ we do _better_ than fine. We do _great_!"


	6. Chapter 6 Dear Ben

Dear Ben

I don't know how long this letter will take to reach you, my son, but as I write, it is springtime. The blossoms are making all the trees so pretty, I just wish your mother were still here to see it. More than that, I wish you were still here in Crabapple Cove to enjoy it.

Of course, as you know, this is the start of a slightly busier time for me. The spring lambs as ever are joined by several spring babies. The Cohens are expecting their second child within the next couple of weeks, the Smithsons, the Raymonds and the Hepleys are all expecting their first. John and Caroline Wray promised me that after the fright we all had after her last child, they would make every effort to have no more; but just as I predicted, she's pregnant again…this time with twins. She will probably try and persuade me to let her deliver at home as she has always done before, but this time I think the risk is a little too great. At least at the hospital they will have equipment available that I just cannot offer if something goes wrong this time. If all goes well, as I hope and expect it will despite our precautions, that will be twelve children.

I know you are worried about me, son; especially since Kiwi got drafted, but there is no need. All the women in the town appear to be arguing over whose turn it is to do my shopping for me, and whose turn to make my evening meal for me. I have a standing invitation to `just turn up' anytime I like for a meal or just for company at the home of more than a dozen familes. I know they mean it too, Ben, because I get scolded at least once every week by someone asking me why I have not yet taken them up on their offer?

Despite the way I am being cared for here, I am missing you very much. Kerry was very worried about the possibility of meeting up with you in Korea…Neither of us considered that she would end up being assigned to the same unit. But she was worried about your reaction to my being left alone here. I do hope you have not given her too much grief over it, because everything really is fine here. I am worried about you.

Ben…Hawkeye, my son, I have to tell you how very afraid I was when I received the message about your injuries the other week. Those few days knowing that you were in a coma and I couldn't be there even to sit beside you were absolute agony. Your commanding officer, Colonel Sherman Potter was most comforting, and also very practical and realistic. I rate him very highly, both in his knowledge of medicine, and in his personal values and humanity. On one of the few occasions I called hoping for good news and was actually able to get through, he and I had a long talk…about all manner of subjects, not only our mutual concerns.

He rates you highly as a surgeon, and even more as a person. He told me that himself without my having to do any prodding. That made me a very proud father.

I know you are sitting in the middle of a war, and anything can happen. Since that last time I have resigned myself to what may happen, and I am not about to ask you not to take chances because that would not be fair. I know the kind of man you are. You will always go out on a limb for a friend or a patient regardless of the risks to yourself, and that is part of what makes you so special. Always follow your heart, my son, and your own conscience, and you can never go wrong.

Now that your cousin is there with you, I have to say I do feel a little easier, because although I know there is a risk I could lose both of you, the truth is neither of you are completely alone there. You each have a little bit of home there with you in the shape of one another.

Ben, I am sure Kerry will have given you her news by now. She plays it strong, as you know. She has always been the same. I have no doubt that she will have told you not to fuss and that she can handle everything fine on her own…well, on the surface that is true enough, but she is still hurting a great deal deep down. You will have realized that yourself by now, but I don't know if she realized it herself. She will need your support, son, even if you have to be extra subtle about it because there is some more bad news for her.

I could have telephoned the news to the Colonel…but somehow I felt it might be better coming from you…maybe I am wrong. I have always been bad at this kind of thing. Passing on bad news is never easy. The thing is, Kerry's sister-in-law Felicity Weston…Mike's sister…she passed away yesterday morning. She had apparently been diagnosed with cancer about six months ago, but she told no one, not even me. Her will is being read out next week. Our Kerry was her only living relation left in the world once her brother died; the likelihood is since there are no claimants at all for the Weston estates that Flick inherited from her late husband, the whole lot will probably go to Kerry. By the time you receive this letter, the courts will have made the settlements final. I would recommend she call…or maybe you had better do it, son. She may not be up to it right away.

I really do not want this letter to finish on such an unhappy note. I received my first _`Korea'_ letter from Kerry a few days ago. She did make me chuckle in places, but I did find it reassuring that you have been able to help each other somewhat over there. She was telling me about some of the tricks she had heard about you whilst you have been there…tsk,tsk,tsk. Hawkeye! I am truly shocked! Although boy, between you and me, I would truly have loved to have seen that trick with the bedpans she told me about. That would have been an entertaining sight to be sure.

Alice Keeler told me to be certain to give you her love the next time I wrote to you. _(Is there something going on between you I should know about?)_

Only kidding, son. There is a letter for Kerry enclosed with this one. Please pass it on to her with a big hug and a kiss from her loving Uncle Dan.

Take care of yourself Ben. I love you very much, and I am more proud of you than you know.

Your ever loving

Dad


	7. Chapter 7 The Return of Sidney Freedman

The compound seemed eerily quiet as a battered old jeep pulled to a stop. The door opened and Major Sidney Freedman stepped out, glancing around. There was the occasional flurry of movement as someone ran across the compound, usually in the direction of the supply tent, but otherwise there was nothing.

"What is this? Ghost town?" He hurried over to the hospital. The chances were high that this was where he would find everyone. He opened the door and was hit, it seemed, by a wall of noise and bustle. The pre-op ward was stuffed full of waiting patients, with barely room to move between the various stretchers. Nurse Kellye, Klinger, Igor and several others were busily moving among them. Radar crashed through the door to the OR just as Freedman reached it, and he stepped back, rubbing his nose.

"Ow!"

Radar saluted clumsily, clipboard still in his hand and then apologized.

"Major sir, sorry sir, we're a little busy right now. Everyone's in OR. We have six nurses down with dysentery if you wanna help out in the OR, sir?"

Freedman smiled at the flurried nineteen-year-old.

"Don't worry Radar. I'm willing to give it a go if they're that short-handed in there?"

Radar nodded.

"We have Father Mulcahy assisting Captain Pierce, and I've gotta help out here so that Nurse Kellye can get into OR."

Freedman nodded, although already his heart was starting to do back flips. He had gone into psychiatry in the first place because he wasn't cut out for surgery. Still, the assisting part should be easier. At least he knew the instruments well enough. Kellye helped him to scrub up, and the two of them entered the operating room together. There was a chorus of cheers when he entered, the loudest being BJ, who was operating at the furthest table with only an anesthetist at the patient's head.

"Yay! Assistance!"

"Kellye, assist Captain Hunnicut!"

"Yes Major!" Kellye's calm voice cut through the hubbub and she made her way to BJ's side and immediately started to put his instrument tray into proper order. Hawkeye grinned behind his mask.

"Good to see ya Sid. All set to help out?"

Sid nodded reluctantly.

"Radar said you need nursing assistance. I think I might be able to cope with that. Where do you want me?"

"Captain Lloyd is desperate for a second pair of hands. Table next to BJ's."

"You got it!"

Sidney moved to the second to end table and found that Captain Lloyd was a young woman with only a pair of gleaming eyes showing. Her hair was entirely hidden beneath a surgeon's hat, and the mask and shapeless gown gave nothing away. She could be a world class beauty, or she could be hideous…there was no way to tell. He could see that she was grinning though.

"I can see by the fear in your eyes that the operating room is not your favourite place."

"That's why I went into psychiatry. Less blood and gore. Euch!"

As he spoke, a spurt of blood erupted from the patient, and hit Sidney squarely on the forehead. Without blinking, Lloyd gestured to a protruding organ.

"See that? Hold it out of the way while I see to this bleeder."

"Yes doctor." Sidney grasped the organ, wondering what the hell it was, and watched as the doctor deftly sutured the bleeder and the spurting abruptly stopped. It was only at that moment, watching as the new female surgeon began the slow process of closing, that he saw her let out her breath slowly, as if she had been holding it.

She's a cool one, he thought to himself, secretly impressed. She's under stress and strain but refuses to allow it to show. I wonder is that the result of a calm and controlled personality, or the result of something else? Fear of failure, or fear of weakness? There is something familiar about those eyes, but it's hard to tell beneath the mask. It would be interesting to watch this one playing poker. Sidney enjoyed poker. He enjoyed studying the various aspects of his fellow players, and working out their master strategies based on what he observed about them. Mind you, he reflected, that didn't always work. There were some, like Hawkeye, who were wise to him by now, and others, like Margaret Houlihan who were completely unfathomable in some ways.

He handed the various instruments to the doctor as she worked, and as soon as the patient was wheeled away, another one appeared. And so it went on, for several hours. Sidney was tempted to throw in the towel and head back to his own hospital and his own office and patients. Patients who didn't bleed all over him. Patients whose insides he thankfully never needed to see. But each time he was about to take his leave, another wave of casualties would arrive, and he observed once again the unfailing hard work and loyalty of the people here at the 4077th. Another nurse fell victim to the sickness as they worked, and before long more and more of the non-medical personal were roped in to help out in the OR, until finally, around three in the morning, the last patient was wheeled away into the post-op ward under the watchful eyes of Nurse Able and Captain Pierce.

As they de-robed in the scrub room, Sid watched the young female doctor he had been assisting as she removed her mask, revealing a face that made him stare by its unexpected likeness to Hawkeye. When she removed her surgeon's cap, long, curly black hair tumbled down her back. She smiled and held out her hand to him.

"Thank you, Major, for your hard work in there. I guess it has been a long time for you?"

He nodded.

"I helped out in surgery a few months ago, but I fled to the hills as soon as I could get away." He smiled at her. "So, satisfy my curiosity here, Captain. You look so like Hawkeye you have to be related. Sister?"

She grinned and shook her head.

"Cousin, actually. I'm told I am almost as irritating as he is too. Whether that is a good thing or a bad thing, I couldn't say."

"Hawkeye is a vital part of the medicine around here, so I would say it's a good thing. Normally we would be playing poker now, but that's put off until tomorrow…or should I say tonight! I guess I'd better turn in."

"Well before you do, how about we head over to the officer's club for a nightcap first? On me, to say thanks."

Sidney nodded.

"Okay, thank you."

They strolled across the compound, and found that several others had had a similar idea, and there were nine or ten others already trying to relax over their favourite drink. He took a seat in the corner and watched while the young woman doctor approached the barman, who stared at her boggle-eyed for a moment before nodding and disappearing outside. He returned five minutes later carrying a large steaming jug, and a few moments later, the young woman joined Sid at his chosen table, bearing two steaming hot mugs. He stared in surprise.

"Hot Chocolate?"

She laughed and shook her head.

"No, but one of Uncle Dan's favourite remedies for cold, for flu, for sore throats and for insomnia. A good relaxant. He called it a Toddy. A Hot Toddy."

Sid sipped tentatively, then smacked his lips.

"Yum! That's really good. By the way, I don't think we have been properly introduced yet. Major Sidney Freedman. And you are?"

"Kerry Pierce Lloyd, unwilling captain in this people's army sewing dying men back together who wouldn't need sewing up if we weren't out here in the first place!"

Sid nodded.

"It does seem a very senseless waste of life." He regarded her thoughtfully, and she reddened.

"Sorry, I should have kept my mouth closed. I don't want to give you any cause to start counselling me."

"I wouldn't dream of it. Can I call you Kerry?"

"Yes, of course. Sid?"

He nodded.

"Does the idea of counselling worry you?"

"No."

Sidney did not reply, but continued to sip appreciatively at his drink. His gaze was kind and thoughtful, but somehow not invasive. His laid back, relaxed manner was not what she had somehow expected from a psychiatrist. She waited for him to speak, to ask her a question, but he seemed content to just sit there and smile, and sip his toddy. Finally, she sighed.

"Actually, I had counselling a year ago or so, and they told me I was cured. How can anyone say that about a mind? Do you cure your patients, Sidney? Send them away, happy to know that their problems are all over thanks to you?"

Sidney shrugged.

"Some things can be cured in time, but most things are usually improved by degrees. For example, I had a soldier a couple of years back who had developed a paranoid fear of spiders and snakes. Quite a problem as his platoon spend the warm weather under low canvass under cover in the undergrowth…known to be full of both spiders _and_ snakes. We managed to help him come to a healthy respect of them, learning how to treat them and avoid being bitten…He still does not like them, but he is no longer paranoid about them."

"In other words, by learning more about the object of his fear, and learning coping strategies?"

"That's about it." Sidney agreed. "I take it that you feel that you did not benefit as much as your counsellor believed."

Kerry shrugged.

"I don't know. Grief is something that never, ever goes away, and I seem to have been subject to it more than most people."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Sid looked and sounded genuinely upset for her.

"You know Kerry, the mistake some people make is in believing that there should be a time limit involved. That just because a certain amount of time has passed by, that you should be over it by now and be able to carry on with your life. But people are all different. You _are_ allowed to grieve for as long as you need to. It isn't a crime to cry for someone even if you lost them years ago."

She nodded slowly, fingering her mug absently.

"Are there…tricks, Sid? Ways of making it go away, not letting it show if…"

"I don't understand."

He did understand, perfectly, Kerry was sure of that. Those calm, kind eyes were watching her carefully, almost reading her mind, a gentle smile playing around his lips. She sighed.

"Look Sid, I lost my mum when I was nine. I saw her fall down the stairs and break her neck. Then I lost dad when I was seventeen. Almost three years after we were married, I fell pregnant with twins, and before they were six months old, I watched them both die in their cribs…natural causes…crib-death. Lilly first, and then Arthur three days later. I…I…"

Her voice broke suddenly, and she wipe away a tear.

"I stopped talking and caring…I guess I figured if I never loved anyone, then I…"

"You can't help loving and caring. Who else have you lost, Kerry? There's been something more recent hasn't there?"

She nodded.

"My husband, Mike. I learned of his death just three weeks before I was shipped out. It's been just over five weeks…"

Sidney regarded the young woman. She should have been sobbing her heart out, but she was so closed-up. Her emotions seemingly put on hold. Perhaps this was a part of the same problem that the Colonel and Hawkeye had discreetly brought to his attention. He recalled they had explained to him about her obsession with her duties, her complete disregard of the war around her, the shelling, the bombing, the noises…the fact that she never seemed to react at all worried them a little. They were worried that her fearless attitude might have been due to a death wish…whether she realized it or not. Perhaps that was all a symptom of the same problem? She had lost so many people, and had now was stuck in a place that surrounded her with death in all its ugly forms, all the time. No wonder she was suppressing her feelings.

Sid reflected on the truth that people were all different, and no two people handled grief in the same way. If Kerry coped better by keeping her feelings tightly controlled, then that was what she had to do. Sid's job though was simple enough. He simply had to make sure that she was given all the support she wanted or needed, and that would include the opportunity to externalize her emotions sometimes.

"Are you afraid will lose someone else?"

"Who else is left?" she raised her voice slightly, causing a few others to turn at the noise before continuing their own conversations.

"If there is no one left for you to lose, then what is the point of living?"

"None."

She spoke the word before she realized what she had said, and as soon as her mind caught up, she glanced up sharply. Sidney was nodding as though in confirmation.

"You don't want or need counselling?"

"No." the word was intended to be definite and forceful, but it somehow emerged sounding a little uncertain. Sidney smiled.

"Good. I'm not a counsellor."

"You're not?"

Sidney shook his head.

"A counsellor implies that I have the answers to everything. That may be the case, but that is not what I do. I have found over the years that most of my patients already have their own answers…they just haven't realized it yet. All they need is to talk things through. Someone to listen to them and help them to put things into the proper perspective."

"And your perspective on me, doctor Freedman?"

He swallowed the last drop from his mug and stood up.

"I think that what you need right now is to finish your drink, then get yourself another and drink it in bed. Have a good night's sleep, and…"

"…and?"

"…and regardless of what people around here may think…if you need to cry yourself to sleep…you are entitled."

He held out his hand.

"Good night Captain Lloyd, and thanks for the drink. I am here for a couple of hours every week for the poker game. Once a month I stay a little longer. My ears are yours whenever you want them. I promise. And I can make you one more promise?"

"What is that?"

"I will never tell you, that you are cured. When you _are_ cured, you won't need telling. See you in the morning, Captain."

Sidney arrived in the VIP tent and found, as he had expected, Colonel Potter sitting sideways on his bed, playing cards with Margaret. They looked up and Margaret handed her cards to Sidney.

"Here you are. I…uh…have an appointment. See you later."

They watched her go, and when they were alone, Potter raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Whaddya think, Sid?"

Sidney examined the cards in his hand and frowned at them.

"I think Captain Kerry Lloyd is a lovely young woman who has had a lot of heartbreak in her life, and is trying to cope with it in the best way she can. I think that all she wants to do right now is break down and cry over the loss of her husband, but feels that her duty to this camp and her patients must come first."

Potter nodded.

"Do you think our fears were unfounded then?"

Sidney laid his cards face down on the bed and looked Potter in the eye.

"A death wish? No. I do not think that. I do believe that she has lost her fear of death. She has suffered the most profound losses that anyone could possibly suffer, and she is coping as well as anyone can. She needs to give herself permission to mourn properly. You are right to be concerned for her welfare, Colonel, but all she needs is time. She'll come and talk to me when she is ready."

"Anything we can do in the meantime to help her?"

Sidney laughed and gestured round vaguely with one hand.

"The 4077th is a health spa, Colonel. Just keep doing what you always do, and she will be fine."

Colonel Potter nodded, a weight off his mind. Sidney Freedman's opinion carried a lot of weight with him. If Sid was satisfied, then so was he. He trusted Sid to keep as sharp an eye on Lloyd as was needed. In the meantime, Margaret really liked the younger woman, and would continue to stay close. Sidney yawned widely. Potter grinned.

"I think that's my cue to skedaddle. Thanks Sid. Sleep well."

Sid nodded, and ten minutes later, as he lay in bed, listening to the sounds of the war in the distance, and the sounds of the camp close by, he thought back to the young female doctor he had assisted. For some reason that he couldn't fathom, sleep eluded him…


	8. Ch 8 - Sore Hands and Troubled Hearts

BJ Hunnicut yawned and rolled over, reaching out his arm automatically to enfold Peg in a good morning hug. He woke suddenly, as his arm flopped over the edge of the narrow cot and knocked his tin mug off the table, landing on the floor with a loud noise that caused his tent-mates to grumble irritably.

"Damn!"

Every single morning, since coming to this place, BJ awakened expecting to be still at home, in bed with his dear wife only to find he was thousands of miles away from San Francisco, sleeping on a hard, narrow cot somewhere in Korea. Every morning he hit an empty pillow, or, more often, bashed his hand against the corner of the table. Every morning his lonely heart gave an almost audible thump before sinking into his boots.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then swung his legs out of bed. It was still dark outside, but all the same he could hear movement going around the camp. He looked around the tent. The unmistakable hump of Winchester buried beneath his blanket grumbled a second time and bounced around on his cot for a few seconds, trying to get comfortable again, before settling down and slipping back into dreamland. He glanced to his left, at Hawkeye's bunk. Hawkeye was the one person who kept him sane in this lunatic asylum. Hawkeye was a habitual joker and prankster, but BJ knew that for the most part, all of that was a smokescreen to hide the fear the lurked beneath the surface.

Everyone here at M*A*S*H had that same fear, and everyone dealt with it in their own unique way. Hawkeye pranked and joked his way through his off-duty, causing mayhem whenever he could. Only something that reaped strong reactions from others, whether good or bad could ever be enough to hide the sound of ones' own screams in the dead of night. This morning though, Hawkeye's bunk was empty. It had been slept in, but it had been vacated.

BJ got up, slipped into his fatigues and sat down again to haul his boots on. Finally shod, he headed to the door, and paused at Hawk's cot, touching the sheet lightly with his fingertips. Cold. Hawkeye had been gone for some time. He wasn't on duty…tonight it was Colonel Potter and Lieutenant Sally Fisk.

Of course, probably a date? Hawkeye being free and single, or so he claimed, was generally on the hit list of the most of the equally available female personnel, and one of two of the less-officially-available as well.

BJ headed across the compound to the mess tent. It would be closed to food of course, but there was usually hot coffee available for those who worked the night shifts. As he went in, he saw Igor was already there, starting his day as always, long before the crack of dawn to ensure that breakfast was served on time. BJ nodded at him and took a cup from the top of the pile, and filled it with the strong, hot coffee. He took a sip, sighed, and glanced round the tent, expecting it to be empty.

It was, almost. Hawkeye was sitting, nursing a mug of coffee of his own in the corner, facing the tent wall.

BJ frowned, and went over to him.

"You okay, bud?"

Hawkeye gave a start, then nodded and took a gulp of his coffee.

"Couldn't sleep."

BJ nodded and sat beside him.

"I am going to end up with a broken hand."

Hawkeye looked sympathetic.

"Reaching out for Peg again, huh? Perhaps you ought to move your cot further away from the table."

"Or just get used to not being with her." BJ replied, his mouth turning down. Hawkeye shook his head.

"Try and never get used to it, Beej." He said, seriously. "Imagine how it might be for Peg when you get back, sleeping beside her as though you were still sleeping alone? It is going to be hard for all of us to adjust when we get back. Better to try and keep with us as much of home as we possibly can."

"You're right, but it…it just hurts so much, Hawk. Peg and…and Erin. The baby won't know me when I get back, and who knows how old she is going to be by the time I see her again? It hurts."

Hawkeye nodded.

"Everything hurts about being stuck out here."

"So, why can't _you_ sleep?"

Hawkeye was silent for a long time, until he finally sighed.

"Kiwi woke me up three hours ago, to say goodbye."

"Goodbye? Where has she gone? Transferred?"

Hawkeye shook his head.

"Battalion Aid. One of their docs is sick with fever, the other stepped on a land-mine and lost both of his legs. They have two new doctors on their way, but Battalion Aid still need help, until the new guys arrive."

"And of course, Lloyd is now on the rotation schedule. It'll be her first time up there too. Did she go alone?"

Hawkeye nodded.

"She said she wanted to make sure to say goodbye to me in case she bought it while she was up there. She just might do, too. I checked with Radar. There's a lot of heavy shelling in that area."

BJ swallowed the last of his coffee and nudged his friend's shoulder.

"Come on pal, maybe you need a taste of something stronger than coffee."

Hawkeye shook his head.

"Thanks Beej, but with the mood I'm in, I'll likely get myself dead drunk, and I need to keep a clear head. Especially if all that heavy shelling at Battalion Aid translates into casualties for us."

"Well then come back to the Swamp, and try to get some more sleep."

Reluctantly, Hawkeye got up and followed his friend back across the compound towards the Swamp, where he flopped down onto his cot once more and stared at the canvas above him. No way would he ever get to sleep.

Twenty-four hours later, he was again laying on his bunk, with his hands behind his head when the call came through the camp for all personnel for report to pre-op immediately.

"The wee small hours again?" Hawkeye was wide awake, so found no difficulty getting himself up and dressed, chucking his pillows at his fellow doctors to wake them from their delicious looking slumber.

"Come on sleepyheads. We gotta go to work!"

The personnel of the 4077th stumbled across the compound, Hawkeye one of the very few who was fully dressed. Most were clad in their nightwear. Charles and BJ stumbled after him, yawning and rubbing their eyes in unison. They found Houlihan already in charge of triage.

"Several choppers full, doctors. You had better get started. I'll cope fine out here."

"You're sure?" BJ asked, and she nodded. Hawkeye clapped Winchester on the shoulder.

"The quicker we see them all…I'll help here for a bit. Go on, you two get started. I'll join you in five."

Houlihan tried hard not to look annoyed.

"I really can cope fine with triage, doctor."

Hawkeye nodded.

"I know you can, Margaret, but Radar tells me the next chopper is ten minutes away. If we can quickly check these guys out and get them inside, the road will be clear and I'll get to work inside and leave you in charge out here."

Margaret nodded, clearly unwilling to argue with him, and the two set to work. As she approached the final stretcher, the noticed the figure was lying on his side. She moved to the other side and her heart almost stopped.

"Pierce!" she yelled loudly.

Hawkeye jumped and hurried to her side.

"What is it?"

"Hawkeye, it's Kerry!"

Hawkeye blanched, and was by her side in an instant. With deft, gentle hands, he examined his cousin carefully, then sat back on the ground, wiping sweat from his face.

"Shrapnel, extensive, but all superficial. I wonder how it happened?"

"She's unconscious."

Hawkeye nodded.

"Slight shock. She'll be fine. She'll be sore for a couple of weeks, but she'll be fine to go back on duty within a week."

He heaved a heavy sigh.

"It could have been so much more serious. Much as I hate to say it Margaret, she is safe to wait for a bit. All these other casualties should be treated first. I'd better get going. Keep an eye on her and reassure her if…when she wakes, will you?"

"I will. Go on, you have work to do."

Hawkeye joined the other doctors in the O.R, and working steadily, they mended and healed for three hours. The final patient to be wheeled in was Kerry Pierce Lloyd. Potter's eyebrows raised high when he realized who it was.

"Captain Lloyd? Hawkeye, did you know she was waiting out there?"

Hawkeye, finishing off his own final patient, nodded his head.

"Still don't know how it happened, sir…"

Potter shrugged.

"Well, you are right that her wounds are superficial. That can't have been an easy call to make though, given that she is your flesh and blood."

"Not too difficult, sir. Some of these men were dying; and anyway Colonel. You haven't seen Kerry when she is angry. I don't recommend it."

Potter smiled.

"Well, don't you worry, Pierce, she is in good hands. Go on now, get out of here, and I'll let you know."

Within two hours, Hawkeye sat in Post Op, hunched on a stool beside Kerry's bed, watching as she slowly started to wake up. She seemed surprised to see her cousin sitting beside her.

"Hawkeye."

"Kiwi. Are you alright?"

"Sore…where am I?"

"Back at the 4077th."

She nodded, reassured.

"I never thought I would see the day when I would be happy to call the 4077th home. I suppose I will have to go to the front again some time?"

Hawkeye shrugged.

"Every time they need personnel, we take turns to go up there. Next time it will be Winchester's turn to go, then Beej, then me…Kiwi, what happened to you? How did you get injured?"

"I had just started the drive back when a shell hit, close to the jeep and I…don't actually know. All I remember was closing my eyes…"

"Well, you were lucky. Something similar happened to me a while back and I wasn't so lucky…although it turned out alright in the end…"

Kerry nodded.

"I remember Uncle Dan pacing the house all day and night when he found out you had been badly hurt. You haven't told him about me, have you?"

Hawkeye shook his head and she looked relieved.

"If it ever happens…you know, to me like it did to you, don't tell him unless you have to. I hate the thought of him going through something like that all over again."

"It could happen again Kiwi, to either of us."

She nodded.

"Yes it could. Perhaps one day I might die out here, or you might…or we may both stay safe and go home to Crabapple Cove."

"I like the last one."

She smiled.

"Good. I do too. By the way, is there any such thing as orange juice around here?"

"Thirsty? How about water for the time being? Can't have you vomiting all over Margaret's nice clean sheets, now can we? Kiwi, I'm glad you're safe."

Kerry reached out her hand and grabbing his chin, she pulled his face down towards her and kissed his forehead tenderly.

"Go on, you old softy. Go and get yourself a drink in the officer's club. Relax for a bit."

Hawkeye smiled at her, ruffled her hair, and walked away.

He found BJ in Radar's office, bellowing loudly through the static to Peg on the phone. Hawkeye waited until he was through and grabbed his elbow.

"Come on Beej, we're having a celebration."

BJ's head and heart was still thousands of miles away, with his wife in California.

"Celebration of what, Hawk? Being a ready-made lice motel? Being a target for North Korean sharpshooters? Sitting here forever patching up kids so that this war will last forever and ever?"

Hawkeye shook his head.

"No. Celebrating the fact that Kerry Pierce Lloyd will be fine and dandy in a few days, despite the best efforts of the enemy; and celebrating the fact that Peg Hunnicut is safe and sound, and when you get back home, she and Erin will both be there waiting for you."

BJ glanced at his friend, but Hawkeye was completely serious.

"Sometimes we do well to count our blessings, my friend. My cousin is fine, and your wife is _not here_ …both of those things are reasons to rejoice."

BJ grinned reluctantly.

"Thanks Hawk. I'll buy."

Hawkeye's face broke into a wide grin.

"Hey, in that case, I'll have peanuts as well…"


	9. Chapter 9 - The Best Medicine

Dear Dad

It has been over a month since my last letter. I'm sorry about that, but the Chinese have been pouring troops into Korea like droplets of water over Niagara Falls, and as a result, casualties have been pouring in here in a steady stream. It has been three weeks since any of us has had more than three or four hours of sleep in a row, and we are all overtired.

We are a very good team, here at the 4077th, but the constant pressure and hard work, lack of sleep and no leisure time at all is pretty gruelling. It makes me proud though to be Chief Surgeon because the professional attitude of everyone has never faltered, from Colonel Potter, whose gentle wisdom and kindly grandfather manner soothes and smooths most of the quarrels before they grow into anything, through the surgeons and the nurses who, let's face it, do so much sterling work around here and don't get nearly the credit that they deserve. Then the orderlies and corpsmen, and our company clerk who all go above and beyond the call.

It doesn't help that the weather is freezing here right now, and it is just the start of winter. The weather is so bitter, that all the heaters have to go into the patient-oriented areas, leaving our tents as welcoming as the Antarctic. This is the one time when there is never any trouble finding volunteers for extra duty, because it means a few hours in a place where the temperature isn't twenty degrees below!

As you can imagine, dad, it was a shock when Kerry arrived here. It was good to see her, but now I am scared of something happening to her. This is hardly City General, after all. She is coping extraordinarily well, considering where she has landed, and it is good to know that we always have each other to count on whenever we need it. She has banished me (for the moment) from fussing unnecessarily and checking up on her all the time, asking how she is. Really, dad, I thought she knew me better than that. But all the same, even though she has been coping fine with the camp and the workload, and everyone loves her over here, I could see that something was weighing her down. She had lost that "Pierce Sparkle". I mentioned to Major Houlihan that I thought my cousin had been looking subdued recently, and that's all I said.

Sure enough, just as I suspected she would, Margaret rose to the challenge. The next thing I knew, about an hour later, BJ and I were invited to the nurses' tent for an impromptu party, and arriving five minutes late were Margaret and Kerry, cheerful and smiling and looking like fast friends.

It turns out that what was on Kerry's mind was not the food, or the cold, or the rats or any of the other things, but something that would affect her even if she was back home with you. The anniversary of Aunt Alice's death, plus of course, she is still mourning for Mike.

Margaret really is a good sort, dad. She is also the sort who plays it tough, but she really cares about people. Only someone who really cares would go into nursing in the first place, I get that, but Margaret really is special. She is a good friend, and she and Kerry will be good for each other.

I have often thought that what Margaret needs most is a friend. I'm a friend, and so is BJ and the Colonel, and the nurses too, but Margaret needs a woman, a buddy if you like. Someone she can tell her secrets to…and that person is definitely not me!

She would never make a close friend of any of her nurses because she would feel that they need to look up to her. She needs to retain that distance that these army types always seem go for, to keep her authority or something. Seems odd to me, but what do I know? I belong in these fatigues about as much as I belong in a tutu! Kerry is female, and although being a captain she is of a lower rank than Margaret, she is a doctor which puts her in a completely different arena. Margaret can regard Kerry as an equal which means she has someone that she can afford to let in.

Margaret and the nurses managed to cheer her up alright dad, but you know how good our Kiwi is at acting brave. The Colonel and I couldn't help being worried about her, so we discreetly called doctor Freedman for advice. He managed to have a very casual conversation with her in which he somehow persuaded her to open up to him. A stranger…? You know dad, I know I have said it before, but Sid is really the best. If you are going to lose your marbles, Sid is the one you need to find them and put them all back again. I really hope I never reach the point of finding out how good he is firsthand. Anyhow, what he told the Colonel boils down to the fact that Kerry has a lot to deal with and she is doing her best, she basically needs time. He is sure she will talk to him again when she is ready and in the meantime, we need to get off her back. If Sid says she will be fine, dad, she will. I guess that is my way of letting you know that she is being well taken care of here, mentally as well as physically. I know you worry dad, about both of us, but try not to worry unless you really need to.

By the way, thank you for the discreet way you handled the news about Felicity. I told her in private, and when she is ready, she says she will handle the lawyers herself. Probably in a day or two.

As you can gather, its been a difficult few days all told, between Kerry's broken heart and the non-stop work here, but things here change all the time. The battle will squirt somewhere else for a bit, and we'll get a bit of a breather, and the chance to recharge our batteries. I'll have to put my thinking cap on. I can't bear to see people sitting around looking miserable when we could be having fun. After all what is the point of being a grown-up if you can't have the fun of acting childish sometimes?

I remember a while back, we were all stressed out and seriously overworked, and for a spot of R and R we were looking forward to watching a movie that Father Mulcahy had managed to track down. It was Potter's all-time favourite "My Darling Clementine". What a great movie! The trouble was dad, that the film was so old and well watched and full of breaks and old splices that it kept breaking. Between the film and the projector breaking down, Klinger had a fight on his hands keeping the thing going at all. It looked at first like Klinger was going to end up taking the brunt of everyone's frustration when at the Colonel's prompting, Mulcahy dragged in the piano from the officers' club, and started everyone in a sing-song. Every time the film broke down, we sang songs, or told jokes. Radar did some of his impersonations. I've seen better, but let's face it he's only nineteen, right? He's got years ahead of him to get good!

Despite the problems, the evening was a great success and revived everybody's spirits. There is a lot of truth that laughter is the best medicine. I think we could all do with another evening of that sort…something to get everyone laughing. Something everyone can join in. I'll see what I can come up with. A talent night perhaps? Where taking part is compulsory regardless of talent or lack thereof… Maybe not. You know me though dad, I'll think of something.

I'm glad Crabapple Cove are taking good care of you. You've been taking care of them for years. Give old Mrs. Periwinkle a great big hug from me will you dad? She sent me a huge tin of her wonderful cherry flapjacks and caramel muffins…and they were superb! Melt in the mouth! Tell her that half the tin was presented to the children in the local orphanage, and they all send her their thanks and hugs.

Signing off now dad, as my part of this war has started off again, and I have to go back to work. Can't be sitting around all day, can I?

Hope to see you very soon.

Your devoted son, Hawkeye.


	10. Chapter 10 - Sleepless Night

Radar O'Reilly threw down his pen and sat back in his chair, removing his glasses and rubbing wearily at his eyes. It had to be almost one a.m? He glanced at his watch and saw that the time was actually a quarter to two. Where had the time gone? He filed everything away neatly, and stuffed his completed reports into a large envelope ready to be checked and signed in the morning by the Colonel before dispatching to I-Corps. He took the envelope into the Colonel's office and locked it into the safe as usual, switched off the light and dropped down on to his bed, just as he was. He was far too exhausted to bother getting undressed for bed, and anyway, the weather was freezing, and the heaters as usual at this time of the year were all in the hospital. He cocooned himself in his blanket and closed his eyes.

He opened his eyes sometime later and clicked on the light, peering with one eye open at the time on his watch. Half past two. It should be almost morning by now! He groaned and rolled over, forgetting all about turning the light off, and buried himself beneath his pillow and tried once again to get to sleep.

This time when he emerged from his cocoon to check the time, it was twenty minutes past three. This night was going to last forever!

Radar had been very sleepy while he had been working on his reports, but now that he was free to sleep, he was finding that his mind just would not turn off. He felt wide awake. He went through in his mind what work he might have left to do? He figured that if he was going to be awake anyway, he might as well spend his time doing something useful. The trouble was, he was completely up to date with everything. There was nothing he could get on with without first obtaining signatures from Colonel Potter. The Colonel had been asleep for five hours now, and would not appreciate being woken up at this hour of the night by an unnaturally wakeful company clerk. There was nothing for it, but to try again to go to sleep.

Thirty minutes later, still wide awake, he got up, put his boots on and wandered out of the room. Perhaps someone else would have a job for him to do? Something dull and tedious that would make him fall asleep?

The only one up and around, he found, was Klinger on sentry duty in the compound. Klinger expressed satisfactory sympathy with Radar's insomnia, but had nothing useful to suggest. Radar rolled his eyes and headed for the hospital.

In the main post-op ward, Captain Lloyd was on duty, with Nurse Hollister. Kerry looked up as Radar appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. She finished making notes on Private Luca's chart, and then came over to him.

"Hey Radar, are you alright? You look like you ought to be in bed and asleep."

"That's where I want to be Captain, but I can't sleep. You ain't gotta pill or something have ya'? I just keep lyin' and thinking and I just can't get to sleep."

Kerry smiled.

"You're overtired Radar, and you need to take time to unwind after working so hard before you try to sleep. You're thinking too much, right?"

Radar nodded.

"You're a doctor, Captain. Can't you give me something to help me get some sleep?"

Kerry shook her head.

"Sorry kiddo, no pills. You start taking them and you'll always need them to get any sleep at all. What do you think about the most whilst your lying there?"

"That I want to sleep and can't!"

She nodded and led the young clerk to an empty bed and sat down beside him.

"You see, that's what you are doing wrong. You know, when I was a little girl, I used to have trouble getting to sleep sometimes, and it always made me tired and grouchy the next day. Then I invented a trick to make me relax, and it worked. Every time."

"It did?" Radar looked excited. "Is it a secret or can you tell me? I'll try anything!"

"Well, I was only seven years old at the time, Radar, you might think it was a bit…babyish. After all, you're sitting here in the middle of a war! A grown man pretty much."

Radar looked slightly sheepish.

"I sleep with a teddy bear, Captain. A lotta the guys already think I'm kind of babyish because of that!"

"Well, I'll tell you what I used to do when I was seven years old. You can try it if you think it might help."

"I will! What?"

"Well, my daddy used to tell me that I couldn't sleep because I was trying too hard to sleep. If you _try_ to sleep, it's all you think about, then you worry because you don't go off quickly, and your brain won't shut up and you stay awake all night. He used to tell me to try and think of something else."

"But how do you do that if you're worried about not getting any sleep?"

"Well Radar, _I_ decided that the best way would be to forget that I was trying to sleep, and pretend to be someone else."

"Who?"

Kerry shrugged.

"Anyone, it doesn't matter. One night I was a kid in the back of an old horse-drawn caravan while my folks drove for miles across the plains. Another time I pretended that I was my favourite story-book character, and in my head, I invented adventures that I played out in my mind. I did that every night for months. I wasn't me, lying in bed and not sleeping. I was someone else, someplace else. Before I knew it, I was waking up in the morning, having had a full nights' sleep."

She grinned and got up.

"I suggest you get yourself some cocoa. There's a tin on the shelf in my tent. Drink it slowly, sitting up in bed, and then lie down and just relax. Forget about trying to sleep and just think about how warm and comfy you are and how tasty the cocoa is. If you need to, you can still try my old game. It always worked for me."

Radar got up.

"Thank you, Captain. I'll try that. Goodnight."

"'Night Corporal."

When Radar was gone, Nurse Hollister looked across and caught the new female doctor as a smile lingered for a few moments as she watched the lad leave the room.

"Kerry…did you really used to do that to get to sleep?"

Kerry looked round and grinned widely.

"Didn't everyone?" she asked. "Come on May, time to check on Sargeant Willis again."

Twenty minutes later, Hawkeye and Margaret came in to relieve them. Once they had completed the rounds of all the patients, nurse May Hollister said goodnight and hurried off to bed. Kerry gave Hawkeye a quick peck on the cheek, and on an impulse, stuck her head round the door of Radar's office. He was slumped on his bed, fully clothed, half sitting up. His glasses were hanging from one ear, an empty mug with the tiniest dregs of cocoa still clutched in one hand. His mouth was open and he was snoring softly. He was fast, fast asleep.

Kerry gently removed the mug from his hand and placed it safely on the floor, then she removed his cap and glasses and placed them on his desk out of the way. With gentle, professional ease, she lay him down and slipped his teddy-bear under the blanket beside him and slipped quietly outside into the dark compound.

Radar slept on.


	11. Chapter 11 - To Heal The Aching Hearts

The rain was heavy and wet; very fine rain that seemed to seep into every crack and crevice. Regardless of how well they wrapped themselves up in their waterproof gear, the personnel of the 4077th M*A*S*H felt cold water drip down their necks, into their shoes and soak through their gloves until everyone was very wet and very cold.

The entire camp had been outside for much of the night, fighting the hurricane strength winds that had been sweeping through the camp, shoring up the walls of the more important buildings within the compound; the hospital and the supply room. Extra ropes and tent pegs had been hammered down on several of the flimsier buildings. The mess tent, although flapping wildly, seemed to be holding steady. Half of the men found themselves simply hanging on to ropes and wooden stakes for dear life to stop buildings collapsing. Already, The Swamp had bitten the dust, the Colonel's tent, the tents belonging to the enlisted men, the nurses and Father Mulcahy. Major Houlihan's tent was for some reason still standing strongly, but it had lost the door and window flaps, causing the winds to howl through, sending everything into wild disarray.

Nobody in the camp had any dry clothing left. The hospital building was made of somewhat sturdier stuff, but it was only made of wood, and the constant shaking and rattling startled many of the patients considerably.

ICORPs had suggested bugging out and finding somewhere more solid to wait out the storm, but a recce made by Sergeant Zale and Corporal Klinger had revealed that less than half a mile away from camp the road was blocked completely with fallen trees and debris.

Everything in the compound that was not nailed down was buffeted by severe hurricane force winds. Glass in some of the windows had been blown in at the start of the night, sending men into the hospital with planks of wood and nails to cover the windows in an attempt to secure the patients from any possibility of the same thing happening in there.

By dawn, everyone was exhausted.

The winds could still be described as gale-force, but the hurricane had passed by, leaving wholesale destruction in its wake.

Destructive as the hurricane had been for the 4077th, it was nothing compared to the destruction that had been wreaked upon the already destitute locals. As the first rays of light revealed the extent of the damage, the first of the local villagers started to arrive on foot, by cart, by wheelbarrow, and many whom had been hurt in the night were carried into camp on the back of friends or relatives.

As always, personnel ran in from all sides to bring the refugees in out of the wind, to share whatever food and shelter they had, to treat their wounds and warm them up. Groups of enlisted men laboured under the command of Major Winchester to rebuild tents that had collapsed, and repair those that had been damaged. Klinger and Igor were ordered into the kitchen to warm up the ovens and prepare something hot for the entire camp and all the refugees. Within ninety minutes, hot broth and mega-strong coffee were being ladled out for everyone, and with the exception of BJ and Nurse Kellye who were on duty in the hospital, and Radar who was still trying to fix the phone, the entire camp huddled into the mess tent.

Hawkeye squatted on the floor with a three-year-old Korean girl on his knee, and sharing his rapidly cooling broth with her. Kerry knelt beside him, feeding a six-week-old baby with a bottle whilst his mother sat nearby watching wistfully, both arms wrapped tightly in plaster-casts, resting carefully in two slings across her chest.

"Hawk, how will this lady survive with two broken arms? Will her husband help her?"

Hawkeye shrugged.

"Maybe, but he will still have to go out and work in the fields in order to provide food for his family. She will simply struggle on as she is. She has an older daughter…about nine years old, and her mother living with her, so she is well off compared with some of these people."

"A nine-year-old and an old lady? Hawkeye, what the hell are we doing here in this country? Do they really want us here?"

He shook his head.

"Don't go there Kiwi. There you'll find yourself mired deep in the conflicting politics and opinions of everyone."

"So how do you justify to yourself being here?"

"I don't." he replied mildly. "In a world that is going completely insane, we are the ones stuck here in the middle simply patching people up. We pick up the pieces, and put as many of them as we can back together."

"I guess they will all have to rebuild their huts when they get back to their villages?"

"Yes, but we'll send people out with them to help put things back together. Once the wind dies down, they'll all be eager to get back and start rebuilding."

Kerry shook her head in admiration.

"Considering the war that has erupted right on their very own doorsteps, they are an amazingly resilient people. I wonder whether the people back home would cope as well if they lost everything in a single storm?"

Hawkeye's mouth quirked.

"People back home have much more to lose, and they are used to living their own cozy lives. These people already have almost nothing, so they value what they do have all the more. Family, food to eat, something warm to wear and a roof over their heads."

The little girl on his lap had eaten her fill and was starting to nod off to sleep. Hawkeye lay her down and made her comfortable, then leaned back himself against the wall and regarded his cousin with half-closed eyes.

"We had a family come through here a while back I remember. Henry Blake was the CO at the time. There was a bit of trouble because this man and his family started to set up home right in the middle of the compound. As it turns out, he had more right to be here than us. This is _his_ land."

"Where is he now?"

"ICORPS moved him on. He and several other displaced locals were transported south to a Red Cross refugee camp. By the time this war is over and the 4077th is dismantled, some other family, or more likely, the government…whoever they turn out to be will probably claim it. That man and his family are unlikely to ever be able to reclaim it. Such are the fortunes of war."

"You're really depressing me now, Hawk."

His grin reached from ear to ear,

"You started the conversation, Kiwi. Listen, a tip from someone who has been here forever. Try not to think too much, and never analyse. Just be a doctor. Just be the best damned doctor you can be, and try not to think of anything else. Overthinking in this place will make you crazy."

Kerry nodded.

"Anything else?"

"Yes. You used to be almost as good as me at being a pain in the ass. Since you've been here, you've been a model citizen. Everyone likes you Kerry, but they would love you even more if they saw the Kerry Ann Pierce that I grew up with."

"Hang on, _almost_ as good as you? What arrogance! I can show you up Hawkeye, if that is what you want!"

"No, I don't mean competition. A partner in mischief. You'll be surprised how cathartic a little camp mischief can be…and seeing as you are my cousin, no one would be terribly surprised."

"Cathartic?" Kerry sounded genuinely surprised. Her cousin grinned.

"Definitely. Try it. Its cathartic for you, but for them all as well." He gestured vaguely round. "They'll be so busy either laughing or getting mad, they'll stop noticing their other problems…the war, the bombs, the rats, the lice… it works the same way for you too."

Kerry nodded, watching him for signs that he might have been pulling her leg, but she knew her cousin well. Mad as it seemed, he was being perfectly serious. It was true they had always been good at pulling pranks when they were younger, but since losing the twins she had seemingly lost all desire for it. She had become serious and studious. In Hawkeye's terms therefore, that translated as dull. Did he really think her dull? No, it wasn't that. Hawkeye himself in real life was as serious as anyone else. This prankster before her was not the real Hawkeye that she knew. Or rather, he was, but he was only the tiniest fraction of the real Hawkeye. Clearly, Hawkeye was projecting the prankster more strongly than any other part of his personality as a form of self-preservation. A way to hide the fear and homesickness that dogged everyone around here. Whilst he was helping himself to cope, he was helping others too.

Kerry leaned back and closed her eyes, largely to avoid having to return his gaze. She had been something of a workaholic since she had got here, she knew. It was her way of trying to focus her mind and avoid thinking too much about Mike, or the twins…she was capable to having a laugh with the girls, but always she had been slightly restrained, as though to give in to happiness in this hell-hole would in some way be an act of betrayal to Mike. Hawkeye was giving her an alternative. Almost the complete antithesis to her normal behaviour patterns. She knew she could be a good partner-in-mayhem with Hawkeye. She was suddenly very tempted. She had not enjoyed a really good laugh for so long. She sat up and opened her eyes. Hawkeye was still watching her carefully. She reached out and instinctively they grasped hands.

"You're on, Hawkeye. Partners?"

His grin lit up the room.

"Partners!"


	12. Chapter 12 The Back of the CAVE

The 4077th was in a crossfire.

The fact that ICORPS and the fire direction centre knew it, notwithstanding, the 4077th was in a crossfire, and likely to remain so for some time to come. Colonel Potter had endeavored to find someone on the other end of the phone that had the authority and the common sense to redirect the shooting, and still the 4077th was stuck in a crossfire. The only option was to bug out, but it was too dangerous to bug out properly with the war coming at them from every direction. Potter called the senior staff to a meeting in the mess tent to discuss alternatives.

Captain Lloyd leaned close over the body of corporal Havers, shaking her head in concern. The boy looked no older than Radar, and he had been sent to a frontline unit where the chance of survival wasn't terribly encouraging. He had been so badly hurt, she had had him on the table for almost an hour, whilst the nurse monitoring life-signs grew increasingly worried.

With the camp being packed up around her in preparation for moving out, she was extremely worried about him. He was so young!

His life-signs were barely registering, and he needed to be monitored every second. He had stopped breathing once already, even with the assistance of extra oxygen. He gone into cardiac arrest twice since coming out of surgery. He was still alive, but, as the saying went, hanging by a thread.

So concerned was she for her patient, that when the Colonel patted her shoulder a little while ago and informed her about the senior staff meeting, she had felt unable to leave his side.

"Nurse Able can sit with him for you, Captain." Potter had told her gently; but Kerry's heart melted at the thought of leaving a nurse to deal with the Corporal without a doctor's immediate assistance if he should go into cardiac arrest again. True the nurses all knew their jobs well, but… Potter nodded his head in understanding. So far, Captain Lloyd had been fortunate, in that the few weeks she had been here in Korea, she had not lost a single patient. She had had a few scary moments, true. Once or twice she had had a patient go into cardiac arrest right there on the table, causing her to temporarily abandon the operation and all but dance on the solder's chest to get an output… _any_ output. The first time that had happened, had been the first time her colleagues had come anywhere close to seeing her lose her composure. Both of those patients had recovered well, and had been sent home. This young man had been fighting hard all the way through. Potter knew, and in his heart, he doubted that the boy had much of a chance. He had been so badly hurt, and the damage had been so bad that he ought to have died right there on the battlefield. Only a combination of his own stubbornness, and Lloyd's expertise had got him this far. Young Kerry had virtually carried him this far. She was determined to stick with him right to the end…whichever it turned out to be. The meeting went ahead without her.

It was nurse Houlihan who informed her of the decision that had been made in her absence. Kerry raised her eyebrows.

"A cave? I imagine we know that this cave will be large enough to house the entire staff plus all the patients and food and equipment?"

Margaret nodded.

"Yes, we think so. It'll be a bit tight, but we'll manage. It's been used for a similar purpose before apparently, so it's well tested. Will you need any special preparations for your patient, doctor?"

Kerry shook her head.

"Technically no, but he needs very close monitoring every second. I didn't want to burden any of your nurses with it at this point Major, but now that the other doctors are close by, would you mind taking my place here for just five minutes whilst I go to the latrine?"

Margaret smiled.

"Of course. Go ahead."

Kerry wasted no time hurrying to the latrines, and then grabbed her cousin's arm as he hurried across the compound in the direction of the hospital. She dragged him into the shadow of the latrine and hissed at him.

"Hawk?"

"What's the matter?"

"A cave, Hawkeye? Did you seriously agree to go hide in a cave?"

He shrugged.

"I was outnumbered Kiwi, what could I do? Throw a bucket of ice-cold water on the whole idea just because of my stupid irrational fear?"

She frowned.

"Hawk, you are as much a member of this camp as anyone else, no less important than any of them. You should at least let them know about…"

Hawkeye quickly grabbed her and put his hand over her mouth.

"Sssshhh! Don't tell them, Kerry, please. I can handle it."

Her expression made it clear what she thought about that. He softened slightly.

"Look, I know, I know, and thank you for caring; but there is really nothing else we can do, and it's certainly too dangerous to stay around here. I'll just have to wing it."

"I still think you should tell the Colonel."

"I know…I know…I will if I have to, but I _think_ I can handle it…Kerry, promise you'll tell nobody about my claustrophobia?"

Slightly more than an hour later, Captain Lloyd was still crouched close beside her patient, right at the rear of the cave. As she was determined to give the young corporal the care he needed for as long as she could, she had volunteered to watch the other critical patients at the same time. Therefore, she was perched on a small stool, surrounded by four critical patients. Father Mulcahy saw her white, set face and knelt on the floor beside her.

"How are you doing, Captain?" He asked her in his kind, gentle voice. She glanced swiftly around the cave before giving him half a grin.

"Fine…father, would you do me a favour? Could you lay your hand on a glass of water? I'm so dry…"

He nodded eagerly.

"Of course."

His return was slightly delayed. He apologized sweetly.

"Here's the water you asked for Captain, and a mug of tea…well, half a mug anyway. Hawkeye's taken sentry duty at the cave entrance."

Karry looked round.

"Thanks father. Sentry duty eh? Sounds rather dangerous, though I guess someone ought to do it."

Mulcahy nodded.

"Being his cousin, I imagine you already knew about his claustrophobia?"

Kerry leaned forward, depressing the sphygmomanometer, checking the blood pressure of her patients in turn. Once done, she sat back and sighed slightly.

"Yes, I knew about his claustrophobia. I was the one that caused it."

"You did?" Mulcahy's astonishment was clear. "When?"

"We were about four years old. We were playing games in my house. We had a small wooden cupboard on the upstairs landing, where we used to store all our coats and shoes. We were playing hide and seek, and he climbed into the cupboard to hide, leaving the door open. I looked inside for him, but I didn't see him, because he had put on a long coat and a pair of my wellies…so I closed the door and locked it without realizing I had locked him in."

"How long was he in there?"

"Must have been almost half an hour. I felt really guilty about that. I said I was sorry, but he never wanted to play hide and seek again. Not indoors anyway. I decided I had scarred him for life."

"He was obviously very good at hiding."

Kerry nodded.

"He was always the best…"

Two hours later, she was starting to nod. She had not had chance to sleep for more than a day. She felt someone prod her knee. She looked up. Winchester was bending over one of her patients, listening to the chest through his stethoscope.

"You need rest Captain." He said blandly and in a tone that indicated he would brook no argument. "There's a blanket and a pillow over there for your use if you want them. I'll take over here for a bit."

She opened her mouth to argue, but Father Mulcahy got there first.

"You won't help your patients by becoming overly exhausted, Captain." He reminded her mildly. Kerry nodded.

"Thank you, Charles."

She got up tiredly and stepped across to the one clear space at the side of the cave where the senior staff had been taking turns to nap. Winchester watched as she moved away, for a moment, seemingly mesmerized. Then he gave a small smile and blinked.

"No, thank _you_ Kerry." He murmured under his breath, turning away deliberately to focus on the four critical patients. "Thank _you_."

Captain Lloyd slept solidly for two hours before she was awakened by a slightly harassed looking nurse.

"Doctor…the major…your patient, Corporal Havers…"

She leapt to her feet and dashed across where she found Winchester and Colonel Potter working hard on the young man. She itched to take over, but the two doctors knew their job well…had been doing it in these conditions far longer than she had…she knelt by the boy's head.

"Come on Havers, fight!"

Winchester panted.

"Anything, Colonel?"

"Still nothing. Time nurse?"

He glanced round and noticed Kerry for the first time.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but we've lost him."

"No! Charles! Colonel, we _have_ to keep trying…he did it before! He can fight back again…Colonel _please_ …"

Potter looked almost as devastated as she felt. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry my dear. You did everything you could and then some. Sometimes we just have to try and remember that we are doctors, not magicians. Sometimes the damage is just too great."

"No!"

She leapt to her feet and was caught in a strong embrace by Charles Winchester. He held her gently in a reassuring embrace.

"Where's Hawkeye?" She asked, her voice muffled.

"Hawkeye and Margaret have had to return to the camp…an urgent surgery case."

Hawkeye was not there. Hawkeye was not there to give her support or reassurance. Not there to be the big brother figure he had always been for her. She was on her own. She pulled away from Winchester and rubbed her eyes with her hand. He directed her to sit on the stool and stood hovering over her. He seemed genuinely worried about her.

"Captain, are you alright?"

"I was so sure I could pull him through…"

Charles nodded.

"If anyone could have, Captain, you could. The Colonel glanced at his watch.

"Major, will you stay with the Captain for a while? Make sure she is alright?"

"With very great pleasure, Colonel."

Potter hurried away, and Charles sat himself on the floor with his back against the wall. He watched the new captain in some concern. He had been watching her from afar for some time. Despite his initial misgivings, he had concluded that she was an outstanding doctor. Circumstances had been kind to her, for in the five weeks she had been at the 4077th, she had enjoyed a one hundred percent survival rate. He suspected that she was very much like her cousin Hawkeye. The kind of person who resented death, and would fight it to her last breath. What had made it harder this time was that before being put under for his operation, young corporal Havers had been conscious. He had asked her if he was going to be alright? I'll do everything I can, Kerry had promised the boy. Well she had, but in the end, he had simply been too badly injured.

He saw her, pale, almost grey face staring at the still form, now covered with his sheet, and suddenly, with a burst of insight, Charles knew what was coming next. He grabbed a kidney bowl and leapt forward as Kerry suddenly heaved and vomited. Charles crouched low beside her, one arm around her back for reassurance, holding the bowl for her as steady as a rock until she was through. Nurse Kellye moved silently from behind and took the bowl of vomit from him as Kerry started to weep silently. Charles held her close, suspecting that there was more here than the loss of a single patient, but not knowing anything for certain. Kerry buried her face in Wnchester's ample and comforting chest feeling his arms holding her protectively, and somehow felt safe. Her tears became freer, less strained and awkward, until she managed to quash them altogether. She pulled away and smiled shyly.

"As a stand-in for Hawkeye, you did pretty well, Charles." She said in a soft voice. "Thank you."

Not knowing what to say, Charles simply nodded.

By the time Hawkeye Pierce and Magaret Houlihan had woken up, they found the rest of the camp had returned, and life had just about returned to normal whilst they had slept. Charles had taken Hawkeye aside and spoken confidentially to him. Hawkeye had given Charles an odd look, which Charles could not quite fathom, thanked him and hurried off to find his cousin. He found her in the mess tent, cradling a mug of coffee. He grabbed one for himself and sat beside her.

"Sorry about Corporal Havers."

Kerry grunted.

"You've worked the emergency rooms, and theatres before coming here. You know as much about death as anyone."

"Doesn't mean I have to accept it."

"I know the feeling."

They sipped their coffees in unison, then Hawkeye spoke again.

"Colonel Potter tells me I will wind up at the funny farm if I don't start to ease up and stop taking death so personally."

Kerry looked round at her cousin, her eyes blazing.

"Funny farm or not Hawkeye, if death comes near me, I'll pull his arms off!"

Hawkeye let out a snort of laughter, which after a minute Kerry mirrored.

"I wish I could promise you that it gets easier. All I _can_ promise is that he won't be the last. Just remember…"

Kerry nodded.

"I know, I know. Pulling his arms off wouldn't be polite. This coffee tastes like old Mrs Pearson's treacle. How about some of the good stuff? Got any left?"

Hawkeye's face broke into a smile, and he nodded.

"Come on, it's on the house." They got up and headed for the door.

"By the way Kiwi…you do know that Winchester's fallen in love with you, don't you?"


	13. Chapter 13 The Sacrificial Lamb

Captain Kerry Pierce Lloyd rubbed her eyes wearily and arched her back. It had been a long and busy week, not helped by the freezing cold wind that had been whipping through the camp for the last twenty-four hours. Extra heaters had been brought into the wards to keep the patients warm, and the dwellers of the tents that had been deprived sat and shivered together in the mess-tent. In a few moments, Hawkeye would be relieving her of duty, and she would join the throng in the mess-tent in the hope that strong, hot coffee and a mass of people all huddling together might serve to bring the temperature up to a slightly less artic level.

She repressed a yawn and made her way to bed number nine. Private George Hopkins. He had been brought in several days ago with a severe stomach flu, and he was still very poorly. His vomiting had eased finally, but he was still unable to eat more than the tiniest morsel of food without turning green. The worst problem had been the dehydration which had taken a day or two to remedy. He was still being given fluids intravenously, as the poor man was still unable to take in very much by mouth. He was weak and pale, but clearly starting to feel a little better. She sat down and gave him a smile. Hopkins smiled back, slightly wanly, admittedly.

"How are you feeling, Private?"

"Weak."

"You'll get stronger. Get plenty of rest, try to eat a little, and drink as much water as you can, in small sips…"

"I know. I'm trying, but I hate being sick."

Kerry grinned.

"I hate it too. Don't worry, you'll be fine. Believe me."

"I do. Thank you, doctor."

She nodded, slightly uncomfortable at the intense look in his eyes, and stood up.

"It's getting late Private. Try and get some sleep."

She could feel his eyes watching her as she continued her rounds, and she was relieved when Hawkeye arrived to relieve her.

"Sorry I'm late Cuz." He panted, "Standing-room only at the latrine."

Kerry smirked.

"I see, and the bushes would not suffice?"

Hawkeye shook his head.

"Too many splinters. Any problems?"

He paid close attention as they did the rounds together, and took her aside as she was about to take her leave.

"Everything all right?"

She nodded, without meeting his eyes.

"Of course. Just tired I guess. I'll get myself a coffee and then turn in. Goodnight."

He nodded and watched her go, aware that something was slightly amiss, but unable to take a guess.

Kerry fought the gale across the compound and entered the mess-tent, only to find the coffee had run dry. She swore softly. Klinger was collecting the empty urn, and caught the exasperated tone of her voice.

"Hey, sorry captain, it's been a busy evening for coffee. We got another on its way if you can hang around for another ten minutes."

"Thank-you Klinger, but I plan to be asleep in ten minutes." She snapped, and turning her back on him, she left the tent.

Half-way back across the compound, she felt a soft tap on her shoulder.

"What? Oh, father! Sorry. Can I help you?"

Father Mulcahy smiled gently and beckoned to her with his finger, and she followed him into his tent.

The camp priest, Francis John Patrick Mulcahy always seemed to conjure an heir of serenity, and his tent gave her the same feeling. For some reason, his stove had not as yet been purloined for the patients, and it was pleasantly warm.

She was not particularly religious, and had never believed in confession. She had therefore never been to this tent before. He invited her to sit and poured her an orange juice from a small jug which he held in a towel. She thanked him and was surprised when she took a sip that it was hot. He smiled at her reaction.

"My sister sends me the orange juice when she can, and I sometimes find it helps to warm it on the stove. A warm drink helps chase away demons sometimes, don't you think?"

She cradled it in her cold hands and sat back slightly, allowing herself to relax. Mulcahy watched her.

"You seem unsettled Kerry. Can I help?"

"NO!"

She instantly regretted her outburst and apologized.

"Oh, please forgive me, Father. I snapped at Klinger too, for running out of coffee. I'm not usually bad-tempered. I can't think what is wrong with me."

He smiled kindly.

"Don't worry. We all have bad days sometimes."

She nodded.

"I've been having more than my fair share of them recently, but there's no excuse to take things out on my friends and colleagues."

She took another sip from her juice, and gazed into her glass.

"father, you're just as human as everyone else, and yet I have never seen you get angry, or annoyed, or snap at anyone. You seem to be serene and peaceful all the time. How do you keep your head so together?"

Mulcahy gave a small laugh.

"You've not been here for very long, Captain. I have had my moments. I am as prone to frustrations and problems as everyone else. There are things we have all learned to do to take our minds off ourselves and our problems. For instance, Major Winchester listens to music. BJ Hunnicut writes to his wife and child and reads and re-reads their letters to him. Hawkeye jokes and pranks all the time, which keeps everyone entertained."

"And you?"

"I box."

"Huh?"

"I used to teach young boys how to box. I keep the practice going."

"Boxing? But how do you conjure this feeling of tranquility that follows you everywhere you go Father? I see that boxing might teach one disciplne, but…"

Mulcahy leaned forward in his chair.

"Captain, I have someone helping me. The one who will help you too if you let him. There is a verse in the bible that has always helped me to refocus whenever I start to feel down."

He reached for his bible, flipped through the pages and with a small smile, started to read; "For I Jehovah thy God, will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not; I will help thee."

He closed his bible and looked up.

"My own father first read me that scripture from Isaiah when I was young. I've never forgotten it."

"It's beautiful."

"Yes, and especially since I have been here in Korea, I have experienced the truth of it."

"You think God is on our side in this war?"

He shook his head.

"An almighty God who takes sides in human conflicts? I think he is allowing all this to continue until his own due time, but in the mean-time he helps individuals to cope with their trials, even when their trials are of their own making."

"You think mine are?"

"I think you have problems of your own, Captain, that are not of your making, and I think you cope fine until something happens to remind you of things. Has something happened?"

Kerry nodded.

"One of my patients in post-op. He's been very unwell for a few days, and he's now starting to recover. He didn't say or do anything wrong, except…"

"What happened?"

"Nothing really. I spoke a few words with him, but I could feel him watching me whatever I was doing. Whenever I happened to glance in his direction, I saw he was watching me with an intensity I have only ever seen once before…"

"Do you think he is attracted to you?"

"Perhaps…but it was more like…more like he was a hungry predator, and he saw me as a…"

"Sacrificial lamb?" Mulcahy offered. Kerry nodded.

"That's it exactly. I hate to say it, but it made me feel like I wanted to ask Hawkeye to take over as his doctor…but that would be unprofessional."

"It might not be a bad idea to let him know you feel uncomfortable about that particular patient though." Mulcahy advised. "As chief surgeon, he really ought to know, and he'll be in a position to help if…if you ever need it."

Kerry nodded.

"Perhaps you're right Father. Thank you. You know, because I'm not Catholic, I've never come to you before."

The Chaplain smiled.

"Being Catholic is not pre-requisite. Sometimes all we need is someone to listen. I'm here whenever you need me to be."

Kerry stood up and handed him her empty glass.

"I'd better get going. I need to get some sleep, and I want to find Klinger first, and apologize to him for being a grouch. Thanks for the hot drink too. I needed it."

Mulcahy nodded and watched her as she made her way back across the compound to the mess tent, where the late-nighters were starting to emerge, huddled in their coats. Perhaps he might look in on the Private in bed number nine tomorrow. Just to have a chat and get to know the man a little?

Corporal Klinger was washing cups and tidying the mess tent, having dismissed Igor for the night already. Igor would have to be up and out of bed at silly-o'clock in the morning to get the place ready for breakfast, so it was fair to give him a bit of a break. He glanced up and smiled when Doctor Lloyd came in.

"Coffee's still warm, doctor. Want me to get you a cup?"

She shook her head.

"No, that's alright Corporal. I just came back to apologize to you for being such a grouch. You didn't deserve the way I spoke to you earlier. I'm very sorry."

Klinger looked surprised.

"Hey, don't worry about it Captain! We all got things on our minds. Who's to blame when some of it leaks out now and then? Are you sure you don't want coffee? I kept some hot for you in case you came back. You could take it to your tent, and drink it in bed."

Kerry let out a laugh.

"Thanks for the thought, but it'll keep me awake all night. What I wouldn't give for a mug of cocoa though…"

Klinger grabbed a clean mug and banged it down decisively on the table.

"Cocoa it is then sir! Why don't you get back to your tent, an' I'll bring it to you when its' done?"

"You have cocoa?"

"Several of the officers are partial to cocoa, so I got us a regular supplier. All we give in return is a quart of Hawkeye's Best once a month."

She gave a surprised nod.

"Thanks Klinger."

When the cocoa came, it's comforting smoothness calmed her and lulled her to sleep, and she awakened the next morning feeling more rested than she had expected. She was not on official duty until early tomorrow morning, so unless the choppers started arriving, she had a free day. She tied her long, curly black hair loosely over her shoulder, and started to clean her tent. When done, she grabbed an armful of her laundry and joined Houlihan in the laundry tent, where they laboured side by side, cleaning their smalls. She missed breakfast altogether, and was hungry when it came time for lunch. In the mess tent, Hawkeye joined her in the queue and spoke in a low tone.

"Was everything all right last night? You looked unsettled when you left post-op."

She shrugged.

"I was a bit…perhaps it was my imagination though…yeah, I think I must have been over-tired and imagined it. Forget it."

Hawkeye shook his head.

"No way. Come on Kiwi. You forget how well I know you. You never let little things get to you, but something was certainly wrong last night."

"Well, okay, but not here. Somewhere we can speak in private. My tent, after breakfast, okay?"

Hawkeye twinkled at her.

"Okay. Enjoy your powdered eggs and plastic toast!"

"Yumm! I will!" she exclaimed with enthusiasm, and to her own slight surprise, she devoured her breakfast and half of Hawkeye's too, with gusto. Later, in her tent, Hawkeye sat on her bed, watching her chewing her knuckles.

"I'm only telling you this Hawk, because you're Chief surgeon, and my cousin, and because even if it _was_ nothing, it bothered me enough yesterday to make me snap at Klinger _and_ Father Mulcahy. "

"Something happened during your shift last evening?"

She shrugged.

"Actually, nothing happened exactly. Private Hopkins in bed nine."

"Stomach flu case? He's a lot better this morning. He actually asked for a slice of toast for breakfast."

Kerry nodded.

"He has been very sick, but last night I started to wonder if he has been deliberately refusing to eat in order to stay here for longer than he needs to…"

"Well, you can't blame him for being reluctant to be sent back to the front."

She shook her head.

"It might be that, but the way he was looking at me, Hawkeye, it made me feel…dirty. As though I were being undressed by his eyes. He was watching me the whole time. Every minute I could feel his eyes on my back, and the expression in them was like…"

"Like what Kerry?"

She stopped her pacing and faced him.

"Like a predator."

Hawkeye pinched his lower lip.

"Kiwi, would you object if I speak about this to Major Houlihan? I won't tell her anything you don't want me to, but it might be helpful to know if any of the nurses have had similar feelings or experiences, or if he is singling you out."

"So long as the patient himself is not identified, Hawkeye. I hate the thought of his receiving less care simply because of his doctor's active imagination."

"I promise. Thanks. Leave this with me for the time being. Just make sure that there is always another member of staff in the room whenever you deal with Private Hopkins, until we sort this out."

She hugged him.

"Thanks Hawk."

"I think Klinger is on corpsman duty in the morning when you're in post-op, so he will always be within hearing distance if you want him."

"Are you planning on asking him to keep an eye on me?"

"No, don't worry. Just letting you know that there will be male assistance available if Hopkins should start to get ideas…"

"He's too weak right now anyway Hawkeye. He's not eaten a thing in more than a week."

Hawkeye nodded, smiled and left, leaving Kerry the feeling that he was more concerned about her than he was letting on.

Early the following morning, Kerry relieved Colonel Potter from duty, and she and Nurse Baker began the usual rounds of all the patients, paying particular attention to the two new patients in the end beds who were both still recovering from the anaesthetic. Kerry made sure to give Private Hopkins no encouragement, but treated him with the same professionalism that she gave everyone else. All the same, she felt the same feeling creeping down her spine. She resisted the temptation to look round to see if he was watching her. Instead she spoke to Nurse Baker beside her in a low voice.

"Mandy, is there a window open in here? I keep feeling a cold shiver down my back."

Mandy Baker glanced round at the windows, and happened to catch one of the patients in the act of lying down and closing his eyes. She frowned and whispered.

"No windows, doctor, but if you have a cold shiver, I'd say it was the patient in bed nine. He gives me the creeps. He's been watching you all night. Morning, rather."

"He has?"

Baker nodded.

"He's hardly taken his eyes off you."

"Would you do me a favour? Pretend you haven't noticed that, but keep a discreet eye on him. If he keeps it up, would you please report your observation to Major Houlihan?"

"Yes doctor."

Aloud, she said;

"Would you like me to ask Corporal Klinger to bring in the bedpans?"

Smiling at her, Kerry nodded.

"Yes, thank you, nurse."

Hawkeye and the Colonel caught up with her in the dispensary later that afternoon. They were alone.

"Hawkeye? Colonel? Is everything alright?"

They looked grave.

"Captain, we have news to give you, and we have a request to make…" the Colonel said, earning himself a glare from Hawkeye.

"…but you can say `no!' if you want to, Kiwi!" He put in, earning himself a stern look in response. Kerry held up her hand.

"I gather this has to be something to do with Private George Hopkins?"

The Colonel nodded.

"His commanding officer had him checked out some time ago with the civilian authorities because of an alleged incident with a native girl some time ago. Private Hopkins was accused of assault on women three times before he was drafted, but there was never enough proof available to make anything stick. Then several weeks ago, a native girl was found crying in the bushes, saying that an American soldier had attacked her and tried to rape her. He had run away when he heard people coming. She described Hopkins to a tee, but was too afraid to make an official complaint, and would not cooperate with a courtmartial officer trying to investigate, and so he got away with it again."

Kerry thought back to her conversation with Father Mulcahy. She nodded in resignation.

"So, you are hoping I will agree to be your tethered goat? Or a sacrificial lamb?"

"He is a dangerous man, and he will end up raping or even killing someone if he is not dealt with, but we need proof. Someone who…"

"And if you just post guards around his bed, he'll know you're on to him? What exactly is it you want me to do?"

"Just be yourself, and let us do the rest. Don't let him guess you know anything about him."

Her heart pounding, Kerry nodded.

"If it keeps other women safe from him, then I'll cooperate. But if I start to scream, you had better be close by!"

Hawkeye and Colonel Potter glanced at each other, and nodded.

"We will. I give you my word."

TO BE CONTINUED . . . .


	14. Chapter 14 - The Tethered Goat

**_Conclusion of: The Sacrificial Lamb_**

 ** _Author's note_** _: Be aware that this story is a little heavier than my usual fare, which is why it has been rated T. There is nothing graphic or gratuitous, but definitely hinted at. There is also brief nudity of a NON-sexual nature._

Captain Kerry Pierce Lloyd dreaded her duty shift coming to an end. Despite Private Hopkins' eyes on her back whilst on duty in the hospital, at least she knew where he was, and she had a nurse with her in the room at all times. This evening it was Major Houlihan on duty.

Somehow, Margaret's presence was reassuring. The Major was aware of what was afoot, and although she gave nothing away whatsoever in her words, expression or demeanor, still Kerry could feel her support as reliable as a brick wall.

She hated this innocently waiting around for something to happen. She would sooner have confronted the leech and have done with it. This way of course, he would hopefully be put out of the way so that the world would be a safer place, but in the meantime, she had to sit back and play victim.

A victim. _Was_ she a victim? Was the fact that she had used the word to reference herself make her in any way a helpless victim? A potential victim perhaps, but certainly not a helpless one. Margaret Houlihan was a perfect example of an attractive woman who might be viewed as a target by a leech like Hopkins.

There were still stories that circulated the camp from time to time about the Major's nickname _Hotlips_ , and how she had acquired it; but she was no soft touch, as Kerry had witnessed first-hand. Possibly if Hopkins had been in Korea for a while, if he had booked into the 4077th hotel before, he may well have already got the measure of the Major, although she had not said so. Come to that, if he had been here already, the records would have made it clear. In that case, why had he picked _her_ as his target?

A soft nudge at her shoulder made her look up from her paperwork. Margaret smiled.

"Hang in there, doctor."

"Still staring?"

Without looking round, Margaret grunted in the affirmative.

"I can't help wondering why me? Do I have a target painted on my back or something?"

"You're his doctor…and you are a little more…hands-on than doctors usually are."

Kerry glanced up, but Margaret was serious.

"More hands-on?"

"When the patient needs something, you generally don't wait for the nurse to come and take care of it, you get right on and do it yourself. With a man like Hopkins, there is the risk that he will take it the wrong way and assume he is receiving special attention."

"Along with the rest of the ward?"

"He won't have noticed anyone else. He will just know that he wants you and you have shown him preferential treatment. To a man like that, almost an invitation."

Kerry sighed and got up.

"I'll have to think carefully about that one, Major. I just hope the Colonel and Hawkeye know what they are doing. Come on, we'd better get back to work."

The two women were busy, and both were happy when Doctor Hunnicut and Nurse Bigelow arrived to take over.

"Quick drink before bed doctor?" Margaret asked. Kerry nodded.

"Why not? I think we've earned it tonight."

In the officer's club, Klinger was doing duty behind the bar. At least, technically speaking. In fact, he was standing behind the bar with a large white cloth tied around his middle, sprawled across the counter and snoring loud enough to rattle the windows. Beside him, Radar was in the process of pouring drinks for himself and Nurse Cox, his date for the evening.

"What'll it be Major?" Kerry asked her companion, slipping behind the bar and taking two clean glasses off the tray. She poured their drinks, and they sat down near the wall, deliberately with their backs to the door.

"So, how have you been Captain?" Margaret asked, once they were settled. "I mean, aside from this business, how have _you_ been doing?"

Kerry shrugged.

"Good days, bad days."

She took a long swig of her half bitter and shut her eyes, feeling the alcohol enter her stomach, wishing she had chosen something stronger, like whisky.

"I miss Mike so much it hurts. One of the enlisted soldiers that came through here last week looked so much like Mike from behind, I almost…" she broke off and shook her head. "I just kept thinking `Well it just _might_ be him… perhaps someone made a mistake…' and I…" Kerry finished her drink and sat staring at the now empty glass.

"Keeping busy helps through the daytime, but nothing helps at night…"

Margaret nodded, tears in her eyes.

"Well, you're welcome to bring your cot into my tent for a while if you think having someone else around will help with the loneliness…"

"Thanks. I might do that at some point, but right now I think I would keep you awake."

Margaret's heart almost broke in sympathy. She had sometimes heard her friend crying herself to sleep in the wee hours of the morning, and had yearned to be able to do something, anything to help. The thing was, the only thing that would really help her, was time. Time would eventually create a tough scar to cover the wound. The wound, the scar, the hole left by the death of her husband would never leave her. But time, as with all things would create a barrier that would eventually ease the searing pain she had now whenever he entered her mind, and allow Kerry to eventually remember him with fondness, and even with humour. But how long the tough scar would take to form differed with each individual.

After a few moments, Kerry seemed to shake herself, and apologized to her companion.

"Sorry, Major. Enough self-indulgence for one day. I'm not like this usually. At one time, I would have given that cousin of mine a run for his money."

"You mean you're a joker and prankster too?"

Kerry grinned sidelong.

"I try to be less…obvious than Hawkeye…but for the most part, I seem to have lost all interest in things like that…the world stopped being a fun place when I lost the twins. It seemed to go downhill from there. But you know what?"

"What?"

"I think if I can switch my `mad gene' back on, it might prove a useful antidote to grief…"

The Major frowned thoughtfully, thinking back.

"You said `for the most part'. You haven't been playing tricks on us all behind out backs without our realizing it, have you?"

A sly smile lit up Kerry's face for a moment before she managed to quash it. Margaret was instantly suspicious.

"What was it? Tell me!"

Kerry shook her head.

"Hawkeye warned me that If I told you, you would go into orbit, and I would hate that. I value your friendship, and I would hate it if you suddenly decided that I was a bad influence after all."

Margaret huffed.

"Hawkeye's the worst influence in this entire camp! He is a smartass prankster that can never be serious for more than a few minutes at a time. He is one of the most annoying, infuriating men I have ever known, and a loyal friend who would do anything for anyone. He is also a valued friend, and if you ever tell him I said that, I will deny it!"

Kerry laughed.

"You mean that you've been waiting for me to show my true colours all this time?"

"Well, you're alike in every other way. It seemed likely you would be hip deep in the jokes too…but when I learned about your…your losses, I found myself wondering how you have managed to keep yourself together this well."

"Workaholic…learnaholic…studyaholic…jokeaholic…"

"Work hard and play hard, right?"

Kerry nodded.

"My problem is that I don't face my problems so much as turn my back on them in the hope that they will go away. Do you realize I never properly cried for Mike until I arrived here at the 4077th? There is so much suffering everywhere here, so much unnecessary death and destruction, it kind of puts all your own woes into perspective, but also brings you face to face with them in a way that doesn't happen so readily at home."

"If you can worry about other people…?"

"Exactly."

"So that's why you're so good with patients?"

That brought the present problem back to their minds, and Kerry grimaced.

"Perhaps I should try and be less hands-on as you put it, if it is going to start encouraging every lothario in Korea."

Margaret made no comment. For her part, she considered doctor Lloyd was an outstanding doctor, and was well liked and appreciated among all the patients for her kindness and compassion. Presently, Kerry moved back her chair.

"I guess I should be making a move. I have a letter home to write. My late sister-in-law's lawyer is dragging his feet over dealing with her estate, knowing that as I am thousands of miles away, I am unable to camp outside his office to give him a piece of my mind. He's clearly forgotten that that letters can have an even greater sting in their tails."

"Well, all the best with that, then."

Kerry smiled, gave the Major a quick hug, and left. She took care to appear carefree and unhurried as she normally would, even though she wanted to break into a run. There was no one acting suspicious on the compound, and she made it to her tent without anything occurring to alarm her. Before she had the chance to click on the light, a hand clamped around her mouth and nose, cutting off her ability to breathe, whilst another hand clutched her tightly around the throat. Her assailant kicked the back of her knees, and they buckled. As her knees hit the wooden floor, she could feel her head starting to spin, and she knew she was about to lose consciousness. She still couldn't breathe, and she squirmed frantically, making wild noises in her throat. The hand across her mouth loosened its grip on her nose, but clamped all the harder on her mouth, stopping her from crying out. With her nose thankfully free, she sucked in as much air as she could, feeling her head starting to pound. Finally, a voice spoke in her ear.

"Now we're going to have a little fun, you and me. Click the light on. Now!"

He leaned her towards the door, and she reached out her hand and fumbled for the light-switch. As light flooded the tent, she saw her reflection in the mirror, her eyes wild with fear, Private George Hopkins close behind her. She felt him tighten his grip on her, then sparks flew, and she blacked out.

She opened her eyes slowly, feeling horribly sick, and realized that she was tied up, hand and foot. There was something large and hard in her mouth…it felt something like a large golfball, but of a size that it filled her mouth to capacity. A gag was tied viciously over the top that ensured she could not make any kind of sound. Her clothing had been completely removed, but she knew that aside from tying her up and undressing her, he had not, as yet, touched her. She knew full well that if he had, she would know it.

The guys had promised to be looking out for her, following her and making sure she was safe. Where in hell were they? She felt curiously detached as she watched Hopkins stripping himself down, as though she were merely watching an old movie. Finally, clad in just his shorts and his boots, he advanced on her, a happy smile on his face.

"I know you've been waiting for this, doctor." He said in a dangerously soft tone. "Sorry about the ropes and gag and everything, but I've found that it's the only way to keep girls' hands off me. They want me too much, you see…"

Kerry was suddenly panic-stricken. Somehow this maniac had managed to escape from post-op without being noticed. The guys were all waiting somewhere else for him to show up, and she was about to be attacked, assaulted, possibly even…

She thrashed about as wildly as her bonds would allow, frantically trying to get her head near enough to her arm to remove the gag so that she could spit out whatever was in her mouth and scream. Hopkins was amused.

"Good girl!" he cooed. "Getting excited, are we? Come on then. Let's have a little fun…"

He advanced towards her, beginning to remove his shorts. She became even more frantic. She had to stop him! She had to!

Suddenly the door was thrown off its hinges by what sounded like several army boots and a volley of shouting. A moment later, Hopkins was lying face down on the floor, with two army issue rifles aimed at his head if he moved. Whilst the MPs took care of the prisoner, Hawkeye was frantically untying her and freeing her mouth from the awful gag, the fear in his eyes telling her all too clearly what could have happened.

Suddenly finding herself freed from her restraints, Kerry didn't care that she was unclothed in the presence of several of her male colleagues. She was alive, and untouched…for what that was worth. Hawkeye leaned in to hug her, but she pulled away from him and grabbed her bathrobe. Colonel Potter rested a hand on her shoulder.

"I think you need to go to the hospital my dear." He said in his kindest grandfather-like voice. Kerry shrugged him off and rounded on him.

"Where were you two when I needed you Colonel? You and Hawk both promised you would be there, and you weren't. I thought he was going to…he might have…oh god…"

Hawkeye looked profoundly upset.

"We were there all the time, Kiwi, really. We had a feeling he would ambush you in your quarters, but we had spies out all over the place, everywhere you could have gone, just in case. We were watching, making sure he didn't actually hurt you, but we had to wait and let him hang himself first…"

Colonel Potter and Hawkeye both yearned to comfort her, but she refused to let them anywhere near her. Then suddenly, they were gone. The MPs were gone, the prisoner, Hopkins was gone. Her tent was hers again, except for the door that was now on the floor in three separate pieces. A blanket was being wrapped around her shoulders and a mug of something hot pressed into her hands. She had never tasted it before, but she knew instantly what it was. Tea. Major Charles Emerson Winchester III sat on his heels, gently massaging her ankles and feet whilst she sipped her hot tea., until she had finished it. He took her mug from her and placed it carefully down on the floor, then sat beside her on the bed, and held her tightly against his chest. He could feel her shaking from deep down inside. Instinctively he knew how terrified she had been…how terrified anyone would have been in her position.

How he admired her for agreeing to be the decoy for that maniac! She could have been killed or worse…Personally, Charles considered her response to the Colonel and Captain Pierce had been remarkably restrained considering the danger they had exposed her to. She was the sum total of everything that Charles considered desirable and attractive in a woman. Good looking and clever yes, but she was courageous and honest. Thank goodness they had stopped that Hopkins before he had managed to do any permanent damage.

Charles stopped that thought in its tracks. How did he know she had suffered no lasting hurts? The trauma she had clearly been through tonight could be enough to tip some women over the edge. She should never have been asked to go through such a thing, whatever the reason. Anger, compassion and desire raged through him as he sat and held her closely, determined that come what may, she would be safe tonight.

Presently, Kerry sat up, and Charles released his hold on her. Her face was tear stained and she was still shaking, although not so badly as before.

"Thank you, Charles."

"Anytime." He smiled. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I don't know…I don't want to be alone right now…Can you stay here with me? I promise no hanky-panky…"

He smiled, his heart thumping unexpectedly.

"I wish I could, but I'm due in post-op in an hour. Let me take you over to the hospital. We can give you something to help you with the shock, treat those abrasions from the ropes, and make sure you're all right. You can have a bed in post op if you want…I could screen one off for you, or…Margaret would be very willing to let me set up your cot in her tent for a few days until you're…"

Exhausted in every way, Kerry nodded and let herself be led away.

Colonel Potter, Hawkeye, BJ, Charles and Father Mulcahy stood in a tight circle in the Colonel's office in the early hours of the morning. Winchester had temporarily left Post-op in the capable hands of the nurse. He was silent and preoccupied. BJ was looking worried, and Hawkeye and Colonel Potter were arguing. After several hours, the argument had lost its heat, but the fact that Hawkeye was still mad at the Colonel worried BJ. Mulcahy regarded his friends and colleagues as though from afar. He was able to see all sides, and he had an equal sympathy with all of them. This happy little family had had a serious breakdown, but things would mend. He had no doubt of that. He cleared his throat, and the voices dropped away into silence.

"If we could utilize the benefit of hindsight _before_ the fact instead of _after_ , we would all be spared a lot of heartache and pain." He observed. "But right now, Private George Hopkins is under armed guard at headquarters, being thoroughly examined by an army of psychiatrists I'm told, to make sure he is fit to stand trial. Because of the difficult decision you all made, and Captain Lloyd's bravery and courage, the case against him is open and shut. If he is fit to stand trial, he will be found guilty and sent down. If not, he will be committed to mental health indefinitely. Either way, Hopkins is no longer a danger to women. Major Winchester and Major Houlihan cared for Captain Lloyd in the hospital, and Lloyd is now in the care of Major Houlihan. Everything that could be done for the captain has been done. You are all worried and hurting and blaming each other, and getting nowhere."

Hawkeye nodded, and Potter chewed his lip thoughtfully.

"The Father's right, folks. Our priority right now is Captain Lloyd. She put her life on the line to help us out, and we almost lost her."

"Sorry Colonel, it's Hopkins I should be mad at, not you. It's just that…I could have lost her and…this was the very first time that she ever pulled away from me."

Winchester sighed.

"Hawkeye, she will be fine, believe me."

"She went to you, but not to me…"

Winchester leaned forward.

"Surely you don't need me to explain _that?_ Hawkeye, you were the one needing comfort, and she was not able to give it, that's why she pulled away from you. She was traumatized, you came in guns blazing, angry and scared…how did you expect her to react? Once you are calm and have had time to get things sorted in your own head, you'll find she'll respond to you as she always has. Probably!" he added as an afterthought.

"Charles, was Kerry hurt at all?"

Charles shook his head.

"Bruises on her wrists and ankles, and around her mouth where he had her tied too tightly. She also has a handprint on her throat from where he was threatening to choke her, but nothing worse. He removed her clothing, but didn't touch her beyond that. The worst thing is the shock and the trauma. It'll take a while for that to go, but she is a remarkably courageous woman. She will bounce back. I have no doubt of that."

"I'll call doctor Freedman." Potter decided. "First thing in the morning. Alright, let's get some sleep."

As the senior officers filed out, he touched Winchester on the elbow.

"Good work, Major." He said. "I'll see you in three hours."

Hawkeye and BJ trudged back towards the Swamp, wondering how anyone could possibly sleep after such a night. As they passed Houlihan's tent, the head nurse herself came outside, closing the door quietly.

"Hey!"

They paused, then BJ nodded, excused himself and continued on his way. Hawkeye stepped towards her.

"Margaret, how is she?"

"High!"

Hawkeye's eyebrows raised.

"High?"

Margaret nodded, unable to hide a slight smile.

"She's drugged up on stuff to calm her down, de-stress her and make her sleep, but its making her very relaxed and giggly. It'll take her a little while to recover, but she will be fine, Hawk. She's still awake. She asked me to look out for you. She wants to see you if you were still around."

Half excited, half afraid, Hawkeye followed the Major into her tent where he found his cousin sitting cross-legged on her bed.

"Kerry." He knelt on the floor and took one of her hands "Are you… will you… do you…"

She pressed a finger against his mouth.

"You got to me in time. You promised you would and you did. I could have said no. It wasn't your fault, Hawk. He scared me but he didn't hurt me in the end because you came."

She kissed the end of his nose.

"I love you, Hawkeye."

"I love you Kiwi."

"Now go to bed and get some sleep. And do me a favour?"

"Of course I will. What?"

"Tell Major Winchester that I am buying him dinner at Rosie's, whenever he's ready."


	15. Chapter 15 - The Opening of Hearts

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE_** _: A matter has been pointed out to me by two different readers now, so before I continue any further I must address the issue here._

 _I am aware that the entire premise of Kerry's existence in the 4077_ _th_ _as a female surgeon draftee is entirely false, as in the real world, women surgeons were not drafted by the US, and certainly never into a warzone. In fact, I am assured that women from the US have never been drafted into any war._

 _I want to make it clear, that when I wrote chapter one of this story, where the character is initially introduced, I was less than half my present age, and there was no such thing as the internet, at least not in our house, and our little local library had nothing helpful in terms of research material. When I came to post it in more recent times, I did seriously consider changing it so that it could conform to the real world. However, it would have involved a considerable amount of re-thinking and re-writing, or of changing the sex of the character just so that she/he would be easily draftable._

 _I badly wanted this character to be a female, and I wanted her to be in Korea unwillingly, which is why I did not choose to go down the road of making her a volunteer who insists on going into a MASH unit._

 _I understand that this point may be excruciatingly annoying to some readers…especially to our American friends. So, to all of you…please forgive me. My intention has never been to corrupt reality or to mis-represent facts; and it has never been my intent to insult or upset anyone either._

 _The fact that I have chosen to allow the story to remain as I originally wrote it is so that I can keep her character and storylines as originally designed. I hope no one has been put off by this point. After all, we are dealing here with the world of_ fiction _…a world where the men in white hats always win, and women are always beautiful…._

 _Okay, then. On with the show . . ._

CHARLES EMERSON WINCHESTER

He saw her lovely face across the compound, laughing with that idiotic cousin of hers. He saw her face on the next table in the operating room, largely hidden by the mask she wore over her mouth and nose…but those lovely eyes; those beautiful laughing eyes of hers were never still.

He loved watching her at work. Those beautiful, slender, deft little hands of hers that possessed such skill. He loved the sound of her voice. He remembered how she had wept into his arms the night the camp had spent in the cave during the crossfire incident.

He had been worried about her, oh so worried when he learned about the maniac Hopkins, and what the Colonel had asked her to do, in order to finally entrap him. Even Pierce had disagreed with the Colonel's plan on that occasion, however warranted it may have been. Pierce and Potter had been mad at each other for some time. Even after they had made it up and Pierce had apologized, Charles could still feel the tension bubbling there beneath the surface for a few days afterwards.

Doctor Lloyd had managed escape mostly unharmed, save for the rope burns on her feet and wrists, and the considerable about of shock she had suffered. The smell of her hair as he had held her tightly, her warmth, her shaking and the way she had implored him to stay with her.

She had meant nothing sexual about that, he knew. She had merely wanted the company, and reassurance of knowing that she would not be alone. He had felt a curious elation about the fact that she had asked _him_ to stay, rather than her cousin Hawkeye. Did she know how he felt about her? Did she have any clue at all that if she asked him to go out and walk on water, he would give it a darned good try?

She was like a fragile piece of pottery that he felt he wanted to protect and care for, and yet it was the very fact of her inner strength and determination to carry on regardless that impressed him the most about her. If felt that to treat her as though she were made of gossamer would tend to have the effect of destroying what he loved the most about her. He loved her independence of spirit, whether it had been borne of necessity or circumstance, or simply genetics made no difference.

Charles Emerson Winchester loved Kerry Pierce Lloyd just the way she was. If only she knew it.

KERRY PIERCE LLOYD

He was a pompous, imperious individual, self-absorbed well beyond decent limits, and his egotism and smugness over his experience and skill as a surgeon irritated her beyond measure. On the surface, he was everything she detested in a man. But Charles Emerson Winchester was, Kerry decided, the ultimate actor.

Oh, he was certainly self-absorbed, imperious and egotistic, without any shadow of a doubt; but she was beginning to see so much more to him that she suspected no one else had seen. Charles had a tender side that he had apparently kept very well hidden from everyone else at the 4077th.

She had had a pretty good run, but had finally lost her first patient during that terrible night the whole camp had had to run away from the shelling and shelter in a cave. Hawkeye had not been there for her…and would have been no help if he had been. She had been working at the rear of the cave, whilst he was seriously claustrophobic. He would never have made it to her side without panicking. Charles had sat with her patient while she had a rest, then he had sat with her, and provided a shoulder and a welcoming arm when the whole situation had got on top of her. She recalled looking at the dead face of the young soldier; and all she had seen was the face of her late husband Mike. Charles had wrapped his arms around her and made her feel safe.

He had been there for her the other evening too, after she had got mad at Hawkeye and sent him away after being attacked by Hopkins.

She still started to shake whenever she thought how close she had come to being raped by that monster, but doctor Freedman had come to camp for a few days, and she had been seeing him regularly.

That Sidney Freedman could see through a ten-inch-plank. Of that she was sure. She had found herself mentioning Charles' name more than once during her recital of the events of that terrifying ordeal, and Sidney had filed it away to be raised again in due time. A few days later, he had asked her about Charles. It was not until then that Kerry had realized that she had started to develop a fondness for him.

Visits with Sid were definitely helping though. She was now able to sleep alone in her own tent, and her nightmares were definitely a great deal less disturbing than they had been at first…and more and more of them were starting to involve a certain Bostonian surgeon…

CHARLES AND KERRY

Charles took Kerry's hand and led her to the floor, and danced with her, a slow waltz to beautiful music only they could hear. When they had had enough, they took a table in the corner, and faced each other.

"Thank you for dancing with me, Charles. You have the light touch…only Mike ever danced with me like that."

"That is a lovely compliment. Thank you. You must miss him."

"I do, but I don't want to talk or think about him. That will only make me cry, and you have seen that side of me far too much already. I'm not like that normally."

"What are you like normally?"

"Once I learn not to see Mike every time I see a dead soldier, you will find out. Thank you for being there for me the other night though. I was so mad at Hawk and the Colonel, I can't tell you. I needed someone who was not involved in the whole thing, and you showed up and took charge…I really appreciated that."

Charles smiled at her.

"You are very welcome."

They sipped their drinks in silence for a minute, then Kerry inclined her head.

"Why do you put on such a pompous act all the time for the rest of the camp, Charles?"

His eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Pompous?" he let go a grin, then stifled it.

"I'm afraid that is not an act."

Kerry shook her head.

"You are an egotistical idiot, Charles. That part of you is not an act; but you are not nearly so pompous as you pretend to be. I happen to know that you care very deeply about people. Why don't Hawkeye and BJ know it?"

"I'm sure they do, really. BJ and Hawkeye are irritating pranksters, who bring our profession into disrepute. I'm sorry…I know Hawkeye is your cousin…but we frequently clash. Professionally though, we are all…how does Klinger put it? `brothers under the skin'?"

Kerry nodded.

"Hawkeye is just as great an actor as you are, doctor. He is a prankster, he always will be, but the real Hawkeye Pierce is a lot more than that. I think you would like him a lot more as a civilian…he is just marking time here…"

She glanced around the Officers Club and sighed.

"Just like the rest of us."

Charles nodded.

"My war was nice and cosy until I was reassigned here as a punishment for winning a game of cards…"

Kerry smirked.

"Yes, that is one story I have heard about. But to hazard a guess, I would say that the punishment was not for your winning, so much as for that smugness you get when you win…"

Once again Charles eyebrows shot up, and she smiled.

"That smugness is intolerable Charles. But then, you know that already, right?"

"You are entirely too observant, doctor Lloyd. Would you care to have dinner with me tomorrow evening? Round at Rosie's?"

Kerry paused, and Charles was instantly embarrassed, recollecting that she was still a new widow.

"I'm sorry, I…"

She took his hand.

"Charles, wait. I would love to have dinner with you. I have to say that I like you a lot, but you must not let yourself develop any feelings for me."

He gave a bittersweet smile.

"Too late to warn me now my dear."

"I'm sorry, Charles. I do care about you, but its…it's just too soon, that's all. I am still seeing Mike everywhere I look. It's only been a few weeks since I lost him. Can we be friends?"

Gallantly he took he hand and kissed the back of it.

"Friends is a wonderful place to start. Another dance?"


	16. Chapter 16 - Learning How To Live

An entry from the personal diary of Major Margaret Houlihan, 4077th M*A*S*H.

Dear Diary

The last few months have been very difficult, what with my marriage to that _FINK!_ Donald Penobscot. Needless to say, we are now going through divorce proceedings. I loved that man, so much, but he never loved me. I was just another conquest, another step forward. I still have his boot-prints on my scalp!

I had always dreamed about marriage and children just like any other ordinary woman; although perhaps the army is not the ideal place for those sorts of dreams. Recently, however, I have started to recognize that even those women that do achieve those things I have only dreamt about…a wonderful husband and children have problems and heartbreaks of their own.

Take for example the newest officer to arrive here at the 4077th. A woman surgeon, Kerry-Anne Pierce Lloyd. Kerry is the cousin of our chief surgeon, and cut from a similar mold. A highly skilled surgeon, also a natural nurse. Although I don't know for sure, I get the impression she was a highly trained nurse before she decided to become a surgeon. She is good company and has a great sense of humour. I also think she is almost as mad as Hawkeye. If those two ever start working together, their pranks would probably drive me insane. Not long after she first arrived, someone nailed shut all the women's toilets, leaving only one toilet between all the nurses in the camp. Looking back now, I strongly suspect that it must have been Kerry!

At first, I found myself envying her a little, until I got to know her better and learned that her heart has been broken into thousands of tiny pieces, more than once.

She witnessed the death of her mother when she was a kid, and as a teenager she then lost her dad. She got married to an apparently wonderful man and had two wonderful babies who then died in her arms just a few days apart.

How the hell would I cope with something like that? And to top it all off, she recently received the news of her husband's death. His ship was hit by an enemy torpedo and sunk with the loss of all hands.

The girl who had everything now has next to nothing. All she has is her cousin Hawkeye and his dad, her uncle Dan. Considering that Hawkeye is here at the camp, she could lose him as easily as anything.

To add to all of that, she was recently almost the victim of a vile attacker of women. She bravely agreed to act as bait so that the MPs could catch him in the act of something they could charge him for. She came so close, it frightens me. At the end of the day, Kerry has taught me a powerful lesson. I suppose the lesson is not a new one, because the horrors of war bring it close to home every time a shell goes off nearby, but Kerry has given it a face.

I have learned that marriage is not important. Money is not important….and I can't believe I just wrote those words! But it is true. I have always wanted a wonderful husband, children, a lovely house and money. But things happen, even for people who are _not_ stuck in the middle of a warzone. Things happen that can take away everything you cherish. Kerry has lost both her babies, her husband, and now she is stuck out here with us. She almost lost her life a few days ago.

She has to learn to be happy once again, and it is not easy in this place. Despite the fact that I am single, childless and homeless, without even a regular home-town to pine after _, I am_ happy.

I chose the army. It means I am here by choice, and I am a good nurse. I am respected by my nurses and my fellow officers, and who knows what the future will hold?

Alright, my marriage to Donald was a complete shambles, but we hardly chose a very auspicious place to get married, did we?

I have learned that it is fine to dream sometimes about something you would like someday, but I have learned more clearly than ever that it is important to live life in the _NOW_. Don't waste the present dreaming of a future that may never happen, and never waste your energy pining or regretting the past. That never helps.

I am Major Margaret Houlihan, head nurse. I am single, but I have a purpose, and people need me. Right now, it is my new friend, Kerry Lloyd. The doctor who has reminded me to live in the present.


	17. Chapter 17 - Back To The Front

I can't believe it came around so quickly. I dreaded it. Ever since I found myself rotated to help at Battalion Aid the first time, and got wounded for my trouble, I dreaded the next time the call came through. Because inevitably a call from Battalion Aid means that a surgeon up there has died or been wounded.

The turnover of surgeons up there seems to be incredibly high…unless they simply use up their rotation points faster because of the dangers involved…I wouldn't know anything about that. At any rate, the dreaded call came, and I just happened to be in the Swamp chatting to the guys when Radar came in.

Hawkeye's turn to go up to the front.

I will never forget how scary it was, and I was lucky to come back alive. When I first came to this hell hole, I was able to act all blasé in front of the nurses when the shells and bombs went off nearby. The sounds of gunshots or cars backfiring were the norm in the seedy area of New York where I did my residency. Up at the front though…you would not believe. I am not blasé any longer. I think I am still able to put on an act of calmness in order to not alarm the already nervous patients and nurses, but it is a thin veneer beneath which my heart is hammering so hard it bruises my chest…or so it seems.

The thought of Hawkeye going through what I had been through just a few weeks earlier filled me with horror and foreboding. He cursed fretfully. Radar muttered a hurried apology and made a run for it. Hawk then looked up and saw my face. He handed me his glass.

"Keep it on ice till I get back, Kiwi. I'll be back for supper tomorrow, I'll betcha."

"How much?"

He raised an eyebrow, then gave a half-smile.

"Hey, we've all been up there before. Just cover for a day or two and then scoot right back. I'll be fine."

I nodded.

"Yeah, and if I hadn't seen it for myself, I might even believe you. Come back in one piece, Hawk."

He paused in the doorway, blew me a kiss, and was gone.

We heard soon enough that the fighting was getting pretty bad around there, and the shelling constant. The news was all pretty bad, right up until the landline was severed and we lost our connection to the front.

We still received their casualties though, and many of them clearly bore the sign of my cousin's skillful hands on their wounds. Many young men came to us still living who really ought to have died, and thanks to excellent care at the Aid station, most of them survived our treatment too and were sent down to the 121st evac.

We still started to get snowed under ourselves however, and soon the Colonel was on the blower to ICORPS to ask when we were going to get our chief surgeon back? He had been stuck up there for three days already. He came back into the OR with a long face.

"ICORPS already sent a new surgeon to release Pierce, and the surgeon was killed by a sniper before he even arrived. Now they are sending another, but they refuse to promise that the replacement's replacement won't end up getting shot as well. If the new guy arrives when he should, Pierce ought to be back here by morning."

Well, Hawkeye was back by morning alright. But not driving a jeep. He arrived by chopper, a bloody bandage on his head and a stomach wound that ripped my heart right up through my throat to see the size of the dressing.

Colonel Potter and I worked on Hawkeye whilst BJ and Charles dealt with the other casualties. Hawkeye was unconscious, and was showing no signs of waking up. Baker on life signs reported that he was weak, but stable, but urged us not to take our time.

We found the stomach wound was a bullet wound, but not nearly as deep or serious as it seemed. Incredibly, we found that although the bullet had penetrated the outer skin and flesh layers, it had not penetrated any internal organs. It was for all intents and purposes a flesh wound only. It was at that point I realized how tense I had been as I found myself breathing properly for perhaps the first time in several minutes. The head wound was more serious, because of the amount of blood he had lost, and the size of the bruising evident even through his hair, and across half his forehead. His right eye was swollen and bloodied, which we found was caused by a shrapnel wound which came very close to but fortunately missed puncturing his eyeball. He would be very sore for a while, but he would be fine. The only problem was the concussion.

When Hawk came out of surgery, Houlihan volunteered to keep an eye on him whilst we finished up in OR, and I was hoping that he would be starting to wake up by the time I got out to post-op.

No such luck.

His wounds were bad enough, but not life threatening. The sooner we woke up the better, though. I relieved Margaret as soon as my shift was over, and I noticed her hovering beside me. She seemed worried. She finally asked me if I was doing alright.

"I'm okay Major." I replied, slightly surprised. "I'd feel better still if this lay-about here would wake up for me."

Margaret sat down again on the edge of the empty next bed.

"You know about what happened to him before, I imagine?"

I nodded.

"Shot and blown up on his way back from Seoul?** Yes, I had to watch his dad pacing the house all night. Especially when we got the news that Hawkeye was in a coma and we were unable to do a thing, or even get regular updates on his condition."

Margaret nodded.

"What must have made it worse was that both of you being doctors yourselves…"

I nodded.

"The imagination can be a terrible thing at times like that. At least this time, I am in a position to do something. And no, I am not going to tell Uncle Dan. I hate the thought of that poor man worrying again like he did last time."

"Kerry, he will be alright. You do believe that, don't you?"

I nodded. I knew my cousin would be fine. There is always an inherent danger in concussion I suppose, but this wasn't too serious. I grinned as a thought struck me.

"You know Margaret, the worst part of Hawkeye getting hurt is his being a very _impatient_ patient! He always knows better than his doctor…what doctor doesn't? He was the same even as a child. When he had polio as a child, he argued constantly with his parents because they had him on a rigorous program of exercising all his muscles. He would prefer to stand at his bedroom window all day, whenever he could and shout rude things down at me, knowing I was not able to go up there and get my own back."

"I'm sure you managed it in the end."

I resisted the temptation to tell her about that, because that little scheme had backfired badly. Without going into details, I had ended up falling into the neighbour's pond, which although shallow, had still furnished enough filthy water for me to swallow and become ill. I ended up hospitalized under uncle Dan's care for three days. To this day, neither he nor Hawkeye know how I came to fall into the Hoopers' pond, and I prefer to keep it that way. I merely smiled and shook my head.

"The thought had never entered my mind. Are you heading to the mess tent by any chance?"

She nodded.

"Yes. Would you like me to bring you a coffee?"

"Please. That would be heavenly."

"Bring two!"

We looked down. Hawkeye was laying there grinning mischievously with one eye open. I stared at him.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough to know how much you both care. No sugar in mine, thanks!"

I gave him a glare.

"Nil-by-mouth for you doctor Pierce. How much did you hear?"

He grinned.

"Enough to know that that silly stunt you pulled in that tree when the branch broke and tipped you into the pond that day was intended for me! And to think I wasted all that energy on sympathy!"

I removed my thermometer from my pocket, took it from its protective casing and jammed it into his mouth. I called out;

"Nurse, take this patient's temperature if you will, and keep him on bed-rest for the next seventy-two hours. Margaret, I've changed my mind. I'll come with you. I could do with one of those doughnuts Hawkeye received in the mail yesterday to go with my coffee. What do you say?"

"Scrumptious!" Margaret replied as we walked away arm in arm. The look on Hawkeye's face was priceless, but I hardened my heart, and we enjoyed our coffee.

By the way, I really am not that mean, not even to my annoying cousin. There were doughnuts alright, and we enjoyed one each with our coffee, but they weren't a gift sent to Hawkeye. They were a gift sent to me from an old schoolfriend who knows how partial I am to doughnuts. Late that evening, I went back in to see Hawkeye, taking with me two mugs of coffee and a large plate of doughnuts.

After giving a doughnut to every patient who was allowed to eat, I gave the last one to Hawkeye, and I sat beside him and drank my coffee. We talked for ages…all night actually. He apologized for making light of my worry, considering where and how he had been injured. He could very easily have been killed after all. Finally, he asked me the question which to him was of over-riding importance.

"Kerry…I have to ask…"

He wrinkled his forehead. I frowned.

"Are you alright? How is your head?"

"Aching, but not too bad. I just have something I can't get out of my mind. I woke up with it, and I…"

"What is it Hawk?"

His face took on an inscrutable look, which put me instantly on my guard, then he grinned.

"Kerry, why do people call it a _pair of pants_ , but only one _bra_?"

** See my story "The Resident Patient"


	18. Chapter 18 - Fear And Friendship

It was there, on the table, incontrovertible evidence. Kerry Pierce Lloyd was dead.

She had to be.

She had been walking across the compound towards her tent, when shells had started falling around her. She had immediately diverted her direction towards the hospital. At the same instant, right where she had been standing, two shells landed, barely a foot apart. When the dust cleared, there was no sign of doctor Lloyd except for her left shoe.

No amount of shouting had raised any reply. Hawkeye, naturally, was beside himself with anger and guilt, and was all for racing outside to find her, shelling or no shelling. It had taken three of his colleagues to hold on to him to stop him charging outside in the middle of the attack. Colonel Potter pulled Hawkeye into his office and thrust a glass of something into his hand. Hawkeye thanked him politely, and then took great pleasure throwing the full glass against the closed door. He pounded his fist on the inside of the door. Potter was sympathetic but firm.

"Pierce, Kerry does not need you going to pieces right now. If she's dead, we will need you around here more than ever. If she's alive, she will need you alive and sane in order to find her. Come on now, we'll go out and search as soon as it is safe. Meantime sit down."

Potter sat himself down at his desk and sipped his own drink, regarding his best surgeon thoughtfully. Hawkeye sat down and rested his head in his hands.

"What will I tell dad? He thinks of her like a daughter."

Potter shook his head.

"Come on Hawkeye, stop being so defeatist!"

Hawkeye looked up. His eyes were dry, but his expression was so sad it almost broke Potter's heart.

"Kerry's husband Mike was killed two weeks before she shipped out, Colonel, did she ever tell you that?"

"No. Just two weeks? That's rough."

Hawkeye nodded.

"Kerry's had a tough life at times, sir. When she was eight years old, she saw her mother fall down the stairs and die from a broken neck. Three days after her sixteenth birthday, her father was killed in a road accident. A few days ago I had to pass on some more bad news to her from my dad about someone else she has lost…"

"Is that why you have been watching over her so carefully?"

Hawkeye looked surprised.

"Was it that obvious, Colonel?"

Potter smiled and shook his head.

"No, actually son, I didn't notice a thing. It was a guess; but I know you pretty well I think. She sounds like a girl who has learned how to take care of herself. Perhaps you shouldn't think the worst until you are forced to?"

Hawkeye nodded.

"You're right, sir."

Potter got up.

"If I give you another drink will you swear not to smash it this time? I don't have an endless supply of glasses you know."

"Scouts, honour!"

Potter poured his chief surgeon another drink, and Hawkeye took a sip and then stared deep into the glass for a moment.

"There's something else…"

Potter saw something indefinable in the other's eyes. Something that worried him a little.

"What is it? Something about Kerry?"

Hawkeye nodded.

"She isn't afraid, sir. She isn't afraid, and she should be."

"Of being out here?"

"Of the war. She shelling, the bombing, the noise and the fear…none of it gets to her. She resents being here rather than at home, she hates the suffering just like the rest of us, sir. But have you watched her in surgery when there have been shells going off? She doesn't even blink. She never reacts. It might be good for the morale of her nurse, but it worries me. Its fear of the shelling that keeps us from doing something stupid and getting ourselves killed."

"She says it is like Saturday night in a New York emergency room but noisier." Potter quoted. Hawkeye nodded.

"Yes sir. How many bombs have you heard of that go off in New York City? It was a line to stop us asking questions. Don't tell me she might be hard of hearing either, because I've checked that out. Her hearing is fine."

Potter stared at him.

"You think she has a death wish?"

Hawkeye shrugged.

"Sir, everyone she has ever loved…aside from me and dad…has died. My mom went when we were small, then her mother, then her father. After she and Mike were married, Kerry became pregnant with twins. They were beautiful sir. A boy and girl. She called them Tommy and Esther. Tommy died in his crib of natural causes when he was a week old, Esther three days later. Kerry returned to work straight away as chief of surgery at the hospital I was working in. She never mentioned the babies again. Then she lost Mike, and now Mike's sister has gone too."

"Pierce, that is very rough, but I thought you said you and your cousin were close."

"We always have been."

Potter smiled sympathetically.

"But it's been a few years, right? Hawkeye, your cousin is a Pierce. She is just like you are. She feels things as much as anyone else, but copes with it by focusing her attention on other people. You, Hawkeye, are a champion of other people's problems, right? You are always off, like the lone ranger on some crusade or other to champion some cause or other. Kerry is the same in her own way. She focusses all her attention on her patients, to the exclusion of all else. It isn't that she is not afraid of the bangs and explosions, Hawk. When she is focused on her work, they become irrelevant."

Hawkeye allowed a smile to creep on his face.

"Nothing gets past you, Colonel, does it? How do you learn to read people so well?"

Potter laughed at that.

"Live a long time."

"And what do you read about me?"

"That you are acting like a big brother to Kerry, and consequently you're becoming like an old woman. You've already done the best thing for her, in my opinion."

"Really?" Hawkeye sounded half annoyed at being called an old woman. Potter nodded.

"You've pointed out to Major Houlihan that Captain Lloyd needs a friend. Well, so does the Major, even if she won't admit it. Margaret has a lot to give. Those two will be good for each other."

"Provided…"

"Yes. Well, the shelling is slowing down now, so we should be clear in a little while."

At that moment, the door burst open and Houlihan appeared, breathless as if she had been running.

"Colonel, Hawkeye, Radar and two of the enlisted men snuck outside and they found Doctor Lloyd. She must have run from the shelling and the blast lifted her off her feet, and she landed in the scrub, behind the motor pool. They've brought her in!"

Hawkeye and Potter stared at her for a moment, and then there was a concerted rush for the door. In the operating room, they found Charles and BJ were checking her over. They looked up as the door crashed open. BJ came towards his friend, his hands up in a placatory gesture.

"Easy, Hawk, easy. She's alive and she's going to be fine."

Hawkeye heaved a shaky sigh of relief.

"How badly is she hurt? Let me see her."

"Concussion, cuts and bruises, a broken left pinkie is all. She will be alright."

As Hawkeye bent over her, her eyes opened and she managed a weak smile.

"Hawk. W..won't get rid o' me that easily…"

"Kiwi. You had me scared. I'm relieved to see you safe."

Charles glanced up.

"Your cousin will be absolutely fine Pierce, but we need to finish treating her injuries, so if you wouldn't mind…"

Margaret pulled at Hawkeye's sleeve and gestured at the door with her head.

"Go on Hawkeye. She'll need peace and quiet for a while anyway, so we're planning to put her in her own tent to recover. I'll set up a nurse's Rota to watch over her for the first twenty-four hours. If you want, you can take first watch."

Hawkeye kissed her suddenly on the cheek and made her blush, then obediently followed the Colonel back to his office.

"Well, you were right, sir. She is fine."

Hawkeye told himself that all was well that ended well, but an hour later, in his cousin's tent, watching closely over her as she slept uneasily, his mind started to rewind and play out all the possible things that might have happened. He sniffed, and shook his head, determined to keep the threatening tears at bay. All was not well. Kerry was hurt. Not fatally; but still quite seriously. Damn this war. When was it ever going to end? He wiped a stray tear from his eye, and then another, as keeping a close eye on the time, he settled back to watch Kerry sleeping.

Two hours later, Nurse Collins came in to relieve him, and reluctantly, he left her to it and made his way to the officer's club. He found Margaret waiting for him.

"I thought you would end up in here, Pierce." She said. "I'm buying you a drink."

Hawkeye nodded and sat himself down at an empty table, where a few moments later the Major joined him, plonking a shot-glass of something strong in front of him. She sipped her own drink.

"How are you doing, Captain?"

Hawkeye shrugged. Margaret eyed him sympathetically.

"I know you're worrying about her, Hawkeye. Remember a few weeks ago, the boot was on the other foot? Before she was drafted? You were found by Klinger and BJ wounded out on the road? You were in a coma for several days, and for a while we didn't even know if you were going to make it. Do you know what?"

"What?"

"Kerry was in Maine through all of that time, desperately wishing that she could be here with you to watch over you, to do something for you. She was telling me the other evening how scared she and your father were, especially being so far away. She is not sorry to be here Hawkeye. She is relieved to be where she can help you if it ever happens again."

Hawkeye nodded.

"It is great to have her here, Margaret, but at least at home I was not worried about her…" he sighed at his own words and nodded again. "…and yes, I know she could be killed back at home just crossing the road. Right now, I am just being besieged with images of how frail we are."

He banged his glass down on the table so sharply that the amber liquid sloshed over the rim. Margaret watched in silence, knowing Hawkeye's anger for what it really was. Fear.

"Damn it, Major, don't we have enough dangers lurking around us every day without finding ever more ingenious ways of killing each other? I hate this place! I hate this stupid senseless war! Having to come here just to patch up these kids so they can go back out to carry on killing. It's stupid and mad!"

Margaret could not disagree. She hated it when Hawkeye got himself into this mood. Good reason or not, once he started down this road, he would drink himself into a stupor, just to block out the pain and fear in his heart. He listened to him berating the world for five more minutes, then took his hand as he got up to get it refilled.

"Hawkeye, that won't help. You know it won't. You'll poison your liver and for what? You won't need to worry about dodging bombs or bullets. You'll kill yourself in the end just as effectively."

He stared at her, then he seemed to deflate, and he nodded and sat down again.

"It's just another form of anesthetic. A way to stop the war and its consequences from hurting as much."

"But it's an illusion, Hawkeye. You need to talk about it. BJ, the Colonel or me. Cry if you need to."

He shook his head.

"I don't do that. Talking fine, but I don't cry."

She smiled slightly.

"I'm sure you don't, but you might be surprised how much it can help sometimes. Sidney Freedman is due in a couple of days. He might even have some outlet that does not involve you drinking yourself into oblivion."

Hawkeye half grinned at that.

"I suspect that Sid counts on me to provide the distractions around here. I reckon that is one of the reasons he makes sure he comes regularly himself. For distraction."

Margaret nodded.

"You are good at being a pain in the ass." She told him. "Some of the time you are even funny."

Hawkeye pretended to be hurt.

"Only some of the time? Which prank was the best one for you then Major? So that I'll know what to fall back on if I ever run out of ideas?"

Margaret giggled.

"Oh alright, all of them have been pretty funny. Some of the funniest were the pranks you pulled on Frank Burns."

Hawkeye smirked

"Frank walked into most of those. Some of them he even brought upon himself."

He eyed her and backed off at her glare.

"I'm sorry, I know you were fond of him. He was alright in his way, just very irritating."

She softened her expression.

"He was a big baby. He was less like a boyfriend, more like a teenage son; all hormones and sulks." She sighed deeply. "Finding what I _thought_ was a real man was no better in the end."

Hawkeye held out his glass.

"Are you sure you don't want…?"

She shook her head and laughed.

"No, just thinking that's all…and wishing."

She was quiet for a moment, then she raised her eyes and found him watching her avidly.

"Hawkeye, you are something of a ladies' man around here…"

"Thanks." He said with a grin. She shrugged.

"That is not always a good thing, you know. But I wonder sometimes, have you never been tempted to marry and have kids of your own? Seriously?"

"Seriously? Margaret, if you'll have me I'll go for it right now!"

It was impossible to tell from his expression how much of that sentence had been meant in jest, as he was leaning back in his chair and yawning.

"You know Major, I think I'll go and sit with my cousin for a bit longer…"

Margaret shook her head and held his glass up for him to see.

"You fall asleep in the chair and you'll wake up with a crick in your neck. You'd be better to go to bed. Right now."

Hawkeye stared at her, the truth dawning.

"You sedated me?"

She smiled and stood up, steering him towards the door.

"Yes. You need the sleep, and Kerry will be fine. Come on, let's get you back to the Swamp."

Half way across the compound, Hawkeye paused and twisted in her grasp so that he was facing her.

"Margaret, you're a good friend." He said, his smile making her heart beat faster. "Thank you."


End file.
